Depth 100
by capablanca
Summary: A battle between computer and human, CPU and brains, transistors and neurons. The prize is the Hand of God. Who will win?
1. Chapter 1

The annual Kyoto Artificial Intelligence Conference usually attracted little attention on the global news cycles. More prestigious local outlets such as the Yomiuri Shimbun, Japan's largest newspaper, traditionally reserved a mere paragraph for one of the biggest gatherings of AI enthusiasts on Earth. Yomiuri Shimbun's Western counterparts such as the New York Times and the Chicago Tribune never left a hint that the event even existed. Not that the respective editors didn't feel the AI conference wasn't important, it's just that politics and sports appealed much more to the readership.

However, the meeting in 2002 was different. For the first time, the conference's organizing body actually commissioned a committee to promote the event. Commercials were aired, flyers were posted. By three days before the meeting, the Kyoto International Conference Center had run out of room and the committee began to book nearby convention centers to accommodate the anticipated crowd of 20,000. Two days before the event, an army of cars and bicycles occupied all the available space within a four mile radius of the convention center. And one day before the event, the attendees had already worked up a frenzied atmosphere redolent of Woodstock or Live Aid. Excited scientists began to line up for the main talks half a day before the doors were to open. They chatted amongst themselves about how the new discovery would change the face of machine learning and algorithms forever. Most of them understood the technical jargon that saltated between tongues and ears, but some of them did not because they were Go players. These Go players brought a different species of anxiety to the conference center. "Nodes" and "permutation trees" and "pruning heuristics" were of no concern to the Go crowd. They just wanted to know if the claims that Go had been solved were really true.

At 5:00 PM, right when the minute hand reached the twelve, a dozen attendants in three piece suits opened the auditorium doors from the inside, and a deluge of bodies filled the presentation room almost all at once. Scientists jockeyed for seats and then for places to sit on the walkways. The men in suits simultaneously tapped on hidden earpieces and then began to close the doors. They were opposed by the crushing force of hundreds of desperate latecomers who gathered one final collective effort to enter the main presentation hall. Only a few stray bodies slipped into the auditorium before the ushers – after a superhuman effort – finally slammed and locked the doors.

It was 5:12 PM now, and the room simmered with the sweltering fog of body heat. A throng of cameramen directed dozens of lenses at the stage, the wiring from their devices twisted in an ugly jungle of vulcanized rubber. Low-decibel discussions dissolved into silence as the conference chairman, an old man in a starchy suit by the name of Dr. Hideo Kobayashi (Ph.D, of course) limped to the podium at stage right. He tapped on the microphone twice and the room thumped twice in response.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he announced in an English viscous with Japanese flavoring, "welcome to the 10th annual Artificial Intelligence Conference in Kyoto."

The audience broke into delirious applause, half in response to the speaker and half as a reward to themselves for making it into the main lecture hall.

"As you all know by now, we are running a marathon session today from 5 PM until midnight. We have allotted the entire first day to the work of Dr. Samuel Peoples and his associates. Dr. Samuel Peoples attended the University of Wisconsin at Madison as an undergraduate and received a MacArthur Fellowship at age 22 for his work on quantum computing. He then attended Stanford University, where he completed his Ph.D on the foundations of Computer Go. Afterward, he landed a faculty position at MIT, where he is now a full professor of computer science and works on superconductor applications in Turing machines, quantum decoherence, and, of course, computer Go. Please join me in welcoming our first speaker, Dr. Samuel Peoples."

The audience erupted into seismic peals of ovation. Half the guests were already standing. The room rocked with the force and noise of an earthquake. Among the cheering and whoop-whoops, near the anterior of the lecture hall, Kouyou Touya watched the new figure on stage with unflappable serenity.

The man was tall, his head brimming with gray hair. Wrinkles marred his cheeks, a few fresh ones from the anticipation of the conference, and several deeper ones only possible from years of tireless toil, very much like the creases on the Meijin's own face. The presenter set a glass of water on the podium and dabbed the perspiration from his neck with a handkerchief.

After all the audience's mania had converted into attention, the man on stage smiled and took a sip from the glass. A large, gray screen slowly descended from the ceiling at center stage, and a projector at the back of the auditorium flipped on to reveal the title screen for the talk:

"THE HAND OF GOD: WORKING TOWARD A PERFECT COMPUTER GO ENGINE"

The presenter fiddled with a laser pointer and then cleared his throat. The intensity of the lights bespoke the likes of a circus event rather than an academic presentation. The man's forehead was mired in sweat again.

"Before I get to the technical stuff, I'd like to first present … a proposition.

"I'm sure that you've all heard by now about Shusaku, which is the name of the Go engine I've developed this year. First, a bit of history."

The man tapped on the laser pointer, and the screen switched into a black-and-white contour of a young man. On the bottom was a caption that read: "Honinbou Shusaku, June 6, 1829 – August 10, 1862."

"As many of you know already, the engine's namesake was probably _the _greatest chess players of all time. Honinbou Shusaku was born in the early 19th century in Onomichi, Japan and quickly rose to prominence as a Go prodigy. His style was kinetic and ambitious. He aimed to claim gobs of territory early and defend them ferociously until the end. This style of play demoralized weaker opponents and frustrated stronger ones. Either way, Shusaku's calculating ability was second to none, and he boasted an impeccable sense of offensive timing."

The next slide showed Honinbou Shusaku across from another player, a wooden Go board between them.

"He went on to win nineteen straight castle games, which were official games held before the shogun and defined the reputation of the Go houses at the time. You could say they were the Super Bowls of the Edo era."

Light chuckles from the audience. The presenter clicked into the next slide, which depicted a single point mushrooming into hundreds, thousands, millions of white branches.

"Even today, many claim that Shusaku was the closest to possessing the 'Hand of God.' By 'Hand of God,' I mean making the perfect move. If you took a 19x19 board and extended the game tree to every possible sequence of moves, the perfect move would be the one that leads to the most wins and fewest losses. The optimal move, you could say."

The next slide showed checkers and chess matches taking place between humans and computer consoles.

"All of you know that computers have already vanquished checkers. Chinook, a checkers engine developed at the University of Alberta by Dr. Jonathan Schaeffer, plays checkers _perfectly_."

He placed a hard emphasis on "perfectly" as if to knock it out of the sentence.

"In chess, which is a bit more complex than checkers, computers have already claimed dominance over human grandmasters under tournament conditions. A quick glance at their history will enlighten you. Garry Kasparov, humanity's prime delegate against AI chess, was defeated by Deep Blue in a six game match in 1997. _Nineteen ninety-seven_! That's five years ago! Since then, chess engines have only gotten better. While our current chess grandmasters barely scrape past an Elo rating of 2800, the best chess engines have already broken the 3000 mark!"

An audible gasp from the audience. The next slide was of a simple Go board in Yose.

"But of course, the Holy Grail is to solve Go. Unlike chess, Go only grows in complexity as the game progresses. Furthermore, a move made in the beginning could have direct implications on the board position dozens, maybe hundreds of moves in the future. This is relevant in chess, but the effect is much more pronounced in Go.

"My research has produced an admittedly complex but also beautiful set of heuristics that have been the basis for the Shusaku engine. It was developed in 2000 and has undergone countless revisions to sharpen its tactical and positional abilities. We have tested its strength against numerous skilled amateurs and a few Western players on the professional circuit. As of today, this program has yet to be defeated in a Go match under standard tournament settings."

The crowd erupted in spontaneous applause. The presenter wiped his forehead with a damp handkerchief and took a sip of water. The canyons on his face formed and reformed under the fiery lights.

"That is why today," he proclaimed over the still-cheering crowd, "I issue a challenge to the world: with each side given exactly 24 hours to make a move, defeat Shusaku and claim the Hand of God for yourself!"

The cheers loudened and then loudened still. The soundproof walls quivered. It was a rock concert gone academic. Not surprisingly, no one noticed Kouyou Touya rise from his seat amidst the din and navigate past the forest of cameras to the back exits. The doorkeepers informed him that he wouldn't be able to come back in once he left. The Go master nodded, the men shrugged, and then opened the doors for him. Kouyou walked past a crowd in the lobby that applauded as it watched the presentation on a mammoth TV screen fixed on the atrium wall. From here, the commotion inside the lecture hall came to the Meijin as a jet engine wrapped in thin foam.


	2. Chapter 2

Hikaru Shindou nursed a cup of water as he waited outside the Haze Middle School's Go club room. He drew a piece of butterscotch from his pocket, tossed it in his mouth, and then chased it with the alkaline-tasting water. The third round of the local tournament started an hour ago, and Hikaru was the first to finish his match. He played an ambitious young Insei named Kitada (who told Hikaru to just call him Kita). Kita's style was a slanted reflection of his own way of playing. He balanced offense and defense, relied on his calculating ability, but occasionally throttled into dynamism for several moves. He had good instinct, but played too greedily. At midgame, Kita tried to wrest control of the center with aggressive play, but Hikaru constructed a watertight defense and penetrated Kita's fortress in a grand counterattack. Kita resigned shortly thereafter.

July in Japan was the medicine you never knew you needed. Everything about summer brought back good memories. Even the bad things. The itchy humidity picking at his skin, the simmering static of cicadas, the sweat, sweat, sweat. Every point of his sensorium retraced its steps back to vanilla ice cream and homeworkless vacation. And Sai. Fujiwara no Sai, the soul of Honinbou Shusaku, He Who Possesses The Hand of God. Hikaru remembered the instructional games he played against Sai, those beautiful tactical soliloquies that would've seemed roundly schizophrenic to anyone who may have caught him in one of his self-games. Sai was inhumanely patient. He showed Hikaru the rules of Go, then the strategies, and then the sublime artistry of the game, all with a supernatural perseverance. He taught Hikaru not to think of Go in terms of war or conflict, but of harmony. Every stone, he would say, represented a star, and when stars mingle, they form constellations and when constellations mingle, they form a firmament. To make the divine move was to repaint the perfect diamond sky. And like sketching contours or daubing watercolors, the Hand of God supposedly appeared as a flash of intuition. Corny, thought Hikaru, but regal in a Sai kind of way. Sai, the Emperor of Go, the Lord of the Stones.

Then gone. Nonexistent. Unalive. How unfair, Hikaru would think to himself, for him to leave me without saying goodbye. Maybe you could stay a little while longer and play a final game with me. We could be like the men shuffling bishops and rooks around as the Titanic sank. Then he'd realize how far he fell into his own net of delusions. It wasn't unfair. I'd just been ungrateful, and it was my own damned fault. Stop your begging.

"Sai," Hikaru whispered to the ceiling, allowing himself a sip of liquid.

The double doors to the Go room tilted open, and a petite girl armed with purple hair stepped out with her head to the floor.

"Akari!" called Hikaru, "How'd you do?"

Akari peered up and produced a reluctant smile. "It wasn't even close."

"But at least you made it to the third round, right?"

"Yeah," said Akari. "But this is good as I'll ever play, and I still suck." Her lips arced downward so subtly that Hikaru wasn't sure if they moved at all. "How'd you do, Hikaru?"

"I won my match," said Hikaru. "It was close, though."

"See? I told you you'd win!"

"I almost lost!"

"Hmph," said Akari, "You're saying that just to make me feel better."

"Well, do you?"

A coy smile lifted Akari's lips like a sunrise. "A bit."

Hikaru offered her a piece of butterscotch. "C'mon. I'll buy you lunch."

"What? Don't you have to play the next round?"

"Don't worry about that," said Hikaru. "Let's just get some food in you, yeah?"

Akari accepted the butterscotch and popped it into her mouth in one tiny motion. "You know, you've really grown up since I've last seen you."

Hikaru and Akari took the Number 59 bus to downtown and picked out a homely Western diner that had "BEAR BURGER" printed on the windows in fancy old English. The heady smell of grease hit them when they entered. Filtered sunlight lacquered the walls in a white sheen, and soft fluorescent fixtures filled the dark corners a noir light. Most of the seats were occupied even now as late lunchtime dovetailed into early dinnertime. A giant cardboard hamburger patty with facial features urged them to try the triple deluxe bear burger for only 800 yen. The mascot extended its arm to offer customers a cutout of a giant greaseball burger that looked like it had been deep fried, injected with lard, and then smeared with mayonnaise. Hikaru had been here before with the Haze Middle School Go Club after qualifying for the regional championships. Tetsuo Kaga had made a big deal about ordering the triple deluxe bear burger and bet Kimihiro Tsutsui the price of the burger that he'd be able to finish it in one sitting. He couldn't; so, Kimihiro helped him to the bathroom where Tetsuo retched for a good ten minutes. Later on, he said that he didn't want to embarrass Kimihiro by winning the bet. You're such a nice guy, Tetsuo.

A young waitress led Hikaru and Akari to an empty booth by the front windows. She was a thin lady whose face carried four or five extra years of age over Hikaru or Akari. A tar-black sheet of hair tumbled down to her shoulders. She brimmed with a latent energy that might gush out if you hit the right buzzword in a conversation with her.

"Hi, I'll be your waitress. My name's Betty. How are you two today?"

"Oh, an American name!" exclaimed Akari.

"Yep. Thanks for noticing. It's always been my dream to go to America and make it big in Hollywood, so I've primed myself by adopting a Western name. I watch Angelina Jolie and Scarlett Johansson on TV all the time," said Betty as she pointed to an old television set hanging from the ceiling. It offered a Japanese news feed to them, but the anchorwoman's report was snowed out by the restaurant's idle chatter.

"What a great goal," said Akari.

"Thanks. And how about you, love?" asked Betty. "Are you a high school student?"

"Sure am."

"And how about you, sir?"

"Yep. Also in high school."

"Don't let him fool you," said Akari. "He's a pro Go player, one of the best in the region."

"Go, huh!" exclaimed Betty. "My grandmamma _loves _Go. Plays it all the time at the salon. You ever been to the Go salon on Block 16?"

"A few times, here and there," chuckled Hikaru. "Those guys play pretty well."

"Oh, you don't have to be modest," said Akari. "You passed your exams already, so you're a certified pro."

"That only means I beat a few guys on their off-days. I'm sure the veterans at the salon still have a thing or two to teach me."

The restaurant chatter waned for a second, and the newscaster talked about a territorial dispute in the Sea of Japan.

"Why don't we order some food?" said Akari. "I'm famished." She pointed at the lunch menu on the table and stopped midway through. "Let me get your veggie burger medium well and a coke."

"You got it," said Betty, scribbling the order on a notepad. "And for you, sir?"

Hikaru fumbled for the menu, scanned the entrees, and then looked up before the silence stretched to full awkwardness. "Yeah, I'll just get the same thing."

Betty offered a practiced smile, one you could only make after you've worked those facial muscles a million times, and then left to retrieve the drinks from the kitchen.

Hikaru hadn't seen Akari in a few weeks since he'd been busy playing in tournaments. He'd been in Fukuoka for a mid-level tournament that he placed fifth in, and then to a strong tournament in Nagoya, where he placed tenth out of twenty. He came back with the excuse of playing in the Haze Middle School tournament, but really, he just wanted to be home. Hikaru watched Akari as she perused the dessert menu, particularly excited by something in the ice cream float section. Her skin was brighter, pigtails longer, and her expression reminded him of a woman reading a letter from a lost pen pal. She looked pretty. Her eyes glowed like hot garnets in the semidarkness. The summer blouse and skirt combo she wore today fit her shape well. Hikaru rolled his eyes a few degrees south and realized her chest had gotten bigger, too. He quickly retracted his glance and his cheeks lit like Rudolph's cherry nose. How did she get so cute in only a few weeks?

Betty brought two cokes to the table and left to tend to her other patrons.

Akari took a sip and let out a satisfied "ahh." Meanwhile, Hikaru stared at the bubbles buzzing in the soda.

"What's wrong, Hikaru?" she asked.

"Akari," he said, "We've known each other for a long time, right?"

"I'd say so. Same elementary school, same middle school, same high school."

"And what do you plan to do after graduation?"

Akari tilted her head up in thought. "Hmmm… I'll take the entrance exams and try to get into a good college. I've got my sights set on a career in business."

"Really?" said Hikaru. "I didn't know you were a business kind of gal."

"It's true! I've always wanted to open up a restaurant of my own. Like this one, you know? A nice place with nice food. A place where people can go after work to relax and catch up on the local gossip. How about you?"

Hikaru finally took a sip of his coke. It tasted honey sweet. "Well, I passed my pro exam last year, and I've been thinking if I really want to join the pro circuit. It's nice to travel and meet other people. I even get to play in some international tournaments once in a while. There's a tournament in New York City in January. I've always wanted to see the Statue of Liberty."

Akari's eyes sunk slightly. She tightened her grip on her coke and smiled. "That's really great, Hikaru. I'm happy for you!"

"It's like a dream, really," he said. "I never imagined I'd be playing professional Go in high school. But… but it's hard. It's hard to leave here."

A truck trundled by, the noise from its engine came muffled through the walls. Akari's heart thumped in her chest.

"It's hard to leave this place," continued Hikaru. "Everything and everyone I know is here. Haze Middle School. The Go club. The salon. All my memories. All my friends. And you too, Akari."

Akari brushed back a strand of hair dangling in front of her. "So... do you think you'll end up quitting school and playing Go from now on?"

"Of course not. You can't go through life saying you never graduated from high school. But I'm not staying purely based on principle either. I like school. I want to enjoy it for as long as I can before I start to get serious."

Hikaru was surprised at how naturally that came out. He never did like the studying and testing. It was like Chinese water torture to him. Drip, history exam, drip, biology exam, drip, math exam, and drip, drip, drip until your bearings came loose. Elementary school had been a shuttle to junior high, and junior high had been a shuttle to high school. But along the way, he had fun and made friends and realized that school was not a means to an end, but an experience to be had. His mother had always told him that. _Study hard, get good grades, but also enjoy yourself. You'll miss these times when you're older. Trust me. I was your age once. _But Hikaru didn't believe her. You don't understand how much I have to study, he would say to her. And whenever he did that, she would only smile and change the subject. _What do you want for dinner? How about some Udon? _

Now that Hikaru found truth in her words, found himself mouthing what his mother would have said, he winced. I'm really becoming an adult, he thought. But I don't feel any different. My hair is the same color, I have that kiddie movie poster hanging in my room, and I still eat cereal on Saturday mornings. For God's sake, I still sob like a baby when Mufasa dies in The Lion King! No person who calls himself a man cries at that part! You're supposed to know how to control your emotions, how to cook curry, how to kiss when you're an adult, and I haven't the damnest clue how to do any of those things. Then he remembered what his mother told him after asked her (a long time ago) what it was like to be an adult. _When the clock hits midnight on your twentieth birthday, you'll become a legal adult. You're allowed to drink and gamble, but you don't feel any different. Take my word for it, honey. Everyone is still a kid, just in bigger, older bags of bones. You find your own equilibrium with everyone else, and that's all there is to it. Everyone is a kid. And even as I tell you this, I'm not sure what an adult is. No one does. Well, except the kids; _they_ think_ _they know. Adults are like Santa Claus or the tooth fairy. Older people know they don't exist. Only the younger people think they do, and little by little, they _become _Santa Claus and the tooth fairy._

"Hikaru," said Akari, fidgeting in her seat, "are you think about something?"

"No, no," he said. "Was just daydreaming is all."

"Well, there's something I want to tell you."

"What is it?"

"Well, it's …"

The chatter in the restaurant reached a simultaneous pause, as if everyone arrived at a comma or a period at the exact same time, and then resumed.

"… actually, forget it."

"What? C'mon. What were you gonna say?"

"I'll tell you later," said Akari, offering a short, consolatory smile.

The sentence started to form in Hikaru's throat when Betty arrived just in time to kill it off. She carried a tray poised with two veggie burgers and two small dishes of coleslaw. "Here you go, kids," she said, setting their orders on the table with an acquired deftness. "Anything else you need?"

"No, thanks a lot," said Akari. Betty smiled and left them to their own company. Akari dug in immediately.

Hikaru hesitated for a beat, shrugged, and then started on the coleslaw. The creamy savor hit him like a million dollar idea. It was frickin' delicious. He salivated so hard that his jaw ached. Bear Burger, he thought. I'll have to come back here some time.

Akari munched on her veggie burger, pacing herself so as to avoid looking uncivil. "Pretty good," she mumbled through a mouthful of soy meat. Hikaru nodded in agreement.

Hikaru's ears plucked the word "Go" from the air and traced it back to the television fixed in the corner. The anchorwoman reported something about a machine that could play Go at a pro level. Footage rolled of old men in suits shaking hands. When you see old men in suits, you _know _it has to be important. One of the men was a Westerner, and he accepted a plaque from the other Japanese man. They posed for a picture, and a fusillade of camera flashes scorched the stage.

Next on screen was a sample game between the computer (apparently named "Shusaku" – how quaint) playing black and an Insei playing white. Numbers were superimposed over every stone to show the sequence in which they were played. The position galvanized Hikaru into attention. He could read Go boards like books, and this one leapt out at him. Black's stone structure looked neat and tidy, yet they looked like the endpoint of some bloody revolution by how White's stone surrounded them. The computer's playing style seemed immaculate. It always found the perfect time to attack and correctly deduced if White's attacks would end up material or abortive. By midgame, it looked like Shusaku would leech its way to victory by simple attrition, so the Insei attacked. He realized he couldn't win merely by defending. White played (what looked like to Hikaru) an unsound move, and Black responded with a brilliancy secured his victory. After Yose, Black's stone structure was a beautiful constellation. A perfect diamond sky? Close, but Hikaru wasn't ready to accept that the Hand of God could have been endowed upon a soulless machine.

Hikaru took a Goliath bite into his veggie burger and shrugged. It was probably all a hoax anyway. He'd read an article in a Go magazine a month ago about computers playing the game. It was a well written blurb that he digested without any of that metallic aftertaste from icky terms like "transposition tables" or "abstraction." The author mentioned that computer scientists still had thousands of years between now and a perfect Go engine. The problem was that Go had so many possible legal moves that a computer would fry its circuits if it tried to consider all the scenarios. Yet computing power was rising exponentially, had been since computers existed (the article recommended that the reader check out "Moore's Law" if he/she were so inclined), so the author offered an optimistic estimate of "a couple of millennia, give or take."

"Hey," said Akari. "What're you thinking about?"

Hikaru swallowed his mouthful of half-chewed burger to reply, almost annoyed he didn't get to enjoy the full flavor. Almost annoyed. But he caught himself.

_You know, you've really grown up since I've last seen you._

"There's something I've wanted to tell you as well," he said, looking up at her.

Akari's chest tightened. She swallowed the skein of coleslaw she'd been chewing and blinked, readying herself for something like a pocket sandstorm to burst out of his mouth and whisk her away to Shangri-La. "What is it?"

"Well, it's kind of embarrassing. I really don't want to say it, but…"

"…But!"

"…but it's hard to put it into words, you know. I don't know if this is gonna come out right."

"Please just tell me!"

Hikaru grinned.

"Actually, forget it. I'll tell you later."

"What!" she exclaimed as Hikaru broke out in a rash of laughter. She jabbed him on the shoulder. "That's not funny!"

"Hey," he said, still giggling, "I had to return the favor!"

Akari crossed her arms and pursed her lips. "That was mean."

"I couldn't help it. I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he said, wiping a tear from his eye.

_I couldn't help it. _Hikaru was relieved he couldn't really control his actions after all. It meant that he still was still officially a kid. _Here it is, officer. My kid card, see. Take a look at it. It says "I couldn't help it" on it, see._ He didn't want to grow up yet. There were still things to do. Like skinning his knees or kissing a girl. He knew that "adult" was just an arbitrary appellation but also appreciated the psychological gravity of it. After all, why isn't the second fastest sprinter in the world satisfied with his title? He can outrun everyone on Earth except one other person. It's not like a terrorist will ever find him and the other guy and pit them against each other in a 100 meter dash for life or death. It's because "second fastest sprinter in the world" doesn't sound pretty, just like how "adult" didn't sound pretty to Hikaru. Grow up, and you'll have to wake up early, do taxes, and watch your weight.

Hikaru devoured the rest of his veggie burger. It tasted heavenly.


	3. Chapter 3

Hikaru adjusted his position on the bed until the beam of midday sunlight landed square on his book of sample Go games. It was an old book titled "101 Go games" he found on the shelf a few days ago and meant to read over the weekend. The games inside dripped of antiquity, the earliest one dating back to the 17th century. Apparently, two of the best Japanese players at the time had wagered five bushels of rice on the match. From what Hikaru could tell, they both calculated well and produced some interesting attacking ideas. White obviously possessed great vision over the board, while Black invested more in single engagements and calculation. In the end, White emerged victorious.

Hikaru couldn't help wondering if he could defeat one of those players today. Why not? World records were being broken every day, and people kept getting better and better at … well, _everything_. With all the Go theory that had been published since the 17th century backing him up, Hikaru surmised he at least had a fighting chance.

The next few pages contained games played by Honinbou Shusaku. In each one, Sai deployed ambitious lines of attack. He always settled the important areas first, but kept his play fluid, never overcommitting to a single plan. Hikaru gasped at several moves he played during a castle game, immediately struck by their structure. They didn't look like moves restricted to the spirit of the times. It was a constellation of stones that refused any attempted classification to classical or modern playing styles. He must have played that game from the astral plane. Perfect. Those moves looked perfect. Sai possessed the Hand of God that day.

Hikaru flipped through the rest of Sai's matches. It was more like a museum tour than a reading session. Sai had proven his creativity, his genius, and his consummate technique long before he met Hikaru. His moves boasted an ancient beauty like cloisonné pottery or swords of Damascus steel, but now rang awkward in the here-and-now world of practical Go. Yet they were still powerful. After all, Sai defeated hordes of Insei and semi-pros on the internet. He defeated Akira. He even defeated Akira's father, Meijin Touya.

Hikaru missed him terribly. His voice, his smile, his games. It was a never-ending exhibition of the greatest player in Go history, and Hikaru was front row center. But it _did _end, and where once there existed Sai's spirit there lies only Hikaru's memories. The first game with Akira, the NetGo games, the practice matches. And then he remembered everything at once. Every move, every lesson, every game in hypnagogic images, blurred out faces of opponents, glowing Go boards like microarrays, a salvo of black and white stones hailing down on Kaya wood, mental artifacts of attacking strategies, Sai's face, his long purple hair obscuring his eyes, his lips curved upward in a smile, moving to say something. Hikaru tried to call out for him, but his voice box was paralyzed. The world went white.

…

After a while, he found himself back on his own bed. Hikaru hadn't even realized he'd been crying until he saw the pages of his book dotted with dark tearstains. Cicadas thrummed, a sunbaked breeze floated into his room. It felt good against his wet cheeks. The sun had shifted a few degrees west. Noon now.

"Sai," he whispered. A bird twittered.

Hikaru felt drained, as if he'd just crossed the finish line to the New York Marathon. He let his head crash onto the pillow and closed his eyes. The thick July air covered him like a blanket. Arms wrapped around the book, he descended into a dreamless slumber.

Clouds rolled by and by.

When he woke up, his mother was at the door, smiling. Hikaru leaned up from bed and rubbed his eyes.

"Had a nice nap?" she asked.

Hikaru stretched and yawned. "Yeah, it was good. What's up?"

"Akira came by today, heard you were back home. He wanted to play a game with you, but I told him you were asleep."

"Whaa! You should've woken me up then," said Hikaru.

"I was going to go get you, but Akira insisted that you finish your nap. What a fine young man, isn't he? Anyway, he said he'd be waiting at the Go salon on 5th street until 6 PM. Why don't you go see him?"

Hikaru had already slipped on his shoes and grabbed his jacket before his mother finished her sentence. "I'll be back for dinner, mom!" He pecked her on the cheek and was out the front door.

Although it was Sunday, the Go salon didn't seem to have any more patrons than it usually did. The familiarity of the dim lights was the first thing that Hikaru noticed as he entered. Dozens of Go boards were scattered about the large room, their banana colored wood bodies rendered olive by the shadows. Old men (and a few old women) occupied the padded chairs, some of them lounging, most of them lost in their games. The place smelled of cigarette smoke.

"Hey, Hikaru," called a female voice. Hikaru ventured a sidelong glance and found Harumi Ichikawa, the cashier of the salon, regarding him with motherly eyes.

"Hey, Ms. Ichikawa," he replied. "How've you been?"

"Not bad, not bad. And you?"

"Great, now that I'm back in Tokyo. I didn't realize how much I missed it until I returned."

"You told me before you left that you were going to play a few tournaments in Nagoya and Fukuoka. How they go?"

"Ah, I think I did well considering how tough my competition was."

"Good. And how were the cities themselves?"

"A lot like Tokyo, except a little bit less crowded," said Hikaru. "Fukuoka's got some really good chow."

"That's good to hear," said Harumi. "Well, I'm pretty sure you're here because you wanted to see Akira, right?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Well, he's waiting for you in the back where he usually sits. You go on ahead."

"Thanks a lot, Ms. Ichikawa."

The main salon room was dark, and Hikaru's eyes adjusted quickly. A few of the old men looked up at him and then a ripple of murmurs permeated the room, only the sound of _s_'s getting through to him. The smoke in here was thicker but bearable, and his nose acclimated to the smells almost as rapidly as his eyes had adjusted to the dark. He scanned the room for Akira and spotted him in the far, vacant corner of the room, submerged in his own game. His dark green hair covered the back of his head like a helmet, his eyes squinted in a trancelike interest at the board. Hikaru called out his name and waved.

Akira's eyes jarred open as if someone had snapped him awake from hypnosis. A subtle, subtle smile formed on his face. He waved back, and Hikaru took that as a signal for him to walk over to his table.

"Yo, Akira," said Hikaru. "Good to see you again."

Akira acknowledged his greeting with a nod and swept the stones off the table. Boy, thought Hikaru. He sure does get real serious real fast, huh?

"So, how were your matches?" asked Akira.

"Right down to business as usual, eh? As expected from a guy like you."

"A guy like me?"

"A guy like you," repeated Hikaru. "Serious, straightforward and wholeheartedly devoted to one thing."

"It's just a way of life," said Akira as he sorted the stones by color.

"Speaking of which, how's life so far for you?"

"I've got a round robin tournament scheduled next week, so I'm preparing for that," he said. "Also, my father has a title match against a player from Nagoya named Koji Mizutani. Ever heard of him?"

Hikaru shook his head.

"I've seen some of his games," continued Akira. "He's very good, but I think my father can beat him."

Akira shuffled the two heaps of stones off the wooden surface and into their respective bowls.

"Up for a blitz game?" asked Akira.

"Always," replied Hikaru.

"Ten seconds a move sound fair?"

"Sounds fair."

"Black or white?"

Hikaru pointed to the bowl with the black stones, and Akira pushed it across the board to him. Hikaru lifted a single stone out of the bowl and admired its familiar weight. A jolt of energy surged through his hand and then branched out through the rest of his body like lightning in a bottle. His stomach fluttered with adrenaline and his head cleared. The knowledge of a hundred Go books read, a thousand games played, and ten thousand games studied effused from his brain and channeled into the gauzy piece of gunmetal black glass on his fingertips. The board itself seemed to sizzle. A 19x19 grid, allowing 361 possible initial moves. But only one of those moves had a place as a star in the diamond sky.

Stone in hand, board ahead, and opponent across, Hikaru's hand moved automatically as if guided by an invisible force, and the stone struck 17-4 with a resounding _clack_ like the shot heard 'round the world. It was the first move Sai had played through him, and the spot Hikaru always settled as black.

Akira was temporarily stunned, but he quickly regained his composure and staked a claim at the opposite corner of the board.

"But I think the biggest news right now in the Go world is Shusaku," said Akira.

Hikaru remembered the Go engine with that quaint name he caught on television at Bear Burger.

"Oh, Shusaku. Isn't that the computer that plays Go?" said Hikaru, placing another stone on the board.

His opponent nodded. "It plays and it plays well."

"Are you sure it's not just some sort of trick? Maybe a professional's actually making all its moves."

"Maybe, maybe not," answered Akira. "My father's been keeping tabs on this thing. Apparently, the scientist who programmed the machine is well-respected in his field, so it's probably not a hoax. On the other hand, it's hard to believe that we already have a computer that can play Go as well as a pro."

Hikaru shook his head in disbelief. "You really think Shusaku is for real?"

"It's already been tested in the United States. Shusaku crushed all the Western pros who challenged it. Now, they really want to test it against the Asian professionals starting in Japan."

"Have they begun already?"

Akira glanced up at Hikaru. "A few pros have volunteered to play it, my father included, but the scientists want to do things a bit differently. They're so confident in the machine that they've issued an open challenge."

"Open challenge?"

"That's right," replied Akira. "They're going to let the machine play against all the pros at once."

Hikaru's eyes widened. "What's that mean?"

"That means we can cooperate and discuss moves. We're given exactly one day to make a single move. If we make a move before our allotted time, we forfeit our right to take back the move. Same thing goes for Shusaku. A lot of the pros in Japan have already asked my father to form an online consortium, and he's agreed to do so. Now it's just a matter of getting the scientists to officially recognize my father as a liaison for Japan."

"Wow. They're really taking this seriously, huh?"

"Absolutely," said Akira. "If it's true that a computer can outplay even the best human pro, then Go is going to descend into a dark age."

"And why's that?"

"Because for my father, for me, and I think even for you, part of the spark for playing Go has always been to find the Hand of God. The perfect move. And if it turns out that a bunch of wires and circuits is closer to the Hand of God than we are, then a lot of players will lose interest in the game."

"I guess you have a point," said Hikaru.

"Also, there's a prize of a million dollars should anyone beat the machine."

"A million dollars?" repeated Hikaru, thinking of how many veggie burgers that could buy. "Why so much money?"

Akira shrugged. "I guess the scientists have a lot of confidence in Shusaku. But I think most of it has to do with publicity, and they've already generated enough publicity to cover a million dollars. In fact, I'm surprised you haven't heard about it already. It was big news all over Tokyo this week."

"I just got back a few days ago."

"Ah, that's right. I forgot. Forgive me."

The game entered Yose, and Akira was slightly ahead. Blitz games were never a strong suit for Hikaru. He considered resigning, but thought up another question to ask Akira, so he placed another stone on the board.

"So this online consortium," said Hikaru. "How do I access it?"

"Ah, so you're interested?"

"Well, I can't help it. You made it sound really interesting."

"It's just an online message board run by NetGo, and it's already got a couple thousand registered users. It's open to anyone, but the moderators are making an effort to confirm the identities of any pros."

"Yeah, and who's actually going to make the moves?"

"If my father's proposal goes through, it'll be him, but he's already announced that he'll hold a daily poll for the most popular move and stick by the result unless it's obviously terrible."

"Like a veto?"

"Exactly," said Akira.

Winding from a seemingly spontaneous twister of fire, Akira snapped down a stone, and it struck the board with a _clack_. Hikaru bucked in his seat. Akira shot him a suspicious glance. "Do you have a NetGo name?"

Hikaru instinctively recoiled. It was that tone, the timbre of his voice like rock against rock. Sai was the handle of someone who outplayed the Meijin himself. It was the user who rocked the upper echelons of the Go world. Akira must have suspected it, thought Hikaru. Why else did he confront me at the internet café with that animal fear in his eyes? And wasn't it he who Sai played against? Akira suspects it, and he's fishing for my reaction. But Sai isn't my username just like how Honinbou Shusaku isn't my real name, so why should I give anything other than the truth?

"I don't have a username."

They connected eyes for a long, clockless instant. It was as if Waldo wandered into Hikaru's pupils and Akira was trying to find him. Hikaru gained a heightened awareness of stones clacking against wood behind him and the steady drone of background banter. The previously subliminal smell of cigarette smoke now hit him with full force. Finally, Akira released his death-grip gaze. "Alright. Do you want one?"

Hikaru conceded a breath of relief. "Sure. How about 'Hikaru'?"

"There's a good chance it's taken, but I'll see if I can register that one for you. I'll let my father know that you're a pro."

"Thanks, Akira," said Hikaru. "By the way, do you have a username?"

Akira absently tacked a stone onto the board. "It's 'Hermes'."

"Really? 'Hermes', like the messenger God? Was 'Akira' taken?"

"You could say that."

Hikaru wondered if Akira was trying to explore some cute pun on the word "taken", but then dropped that line of thought. He was thinking too much.

"I've got 65 and a half moku, and it looks like you've got 64," said Akira.

"It does indeed," said Hikaru. "That was a good game. I improve every time I play with you. Thanks for inviting me here."

"You're leaving? So soon?"

"I promised my mom I'd be home for dinner," said Hikaru. "Maybe I'll meet you on the forums. See you later."

As Hikaru turned, Akira sprang from his seat. "Shindou!"

Men peered up from their games, chatter subsided, someone coughed.

"Shindou, I know you know who Sai is."

Something heavy like a lead ball dropped into Hikaru's stomach. His mouth dried into a desert. Was Akira bluffing? Probably not. His words were crystallized with that sandpaper texture again. Hikaru wondered if he should continue to feign ignorance or just admit it and concoct another layer of excuses. _I know who Sai is, but I can't tell you who. He's a very private person, ya know._

"I'm not going to ask you who he is," said Akira, "but I just want to let you know that Sai would help us a lot in the match against Shusaku."

A green flame burned in Akira's pupils. They looked like two fey emeralds that drive you insane if you gazed at them for too long. With a quavering voice, he continued, "So if you can at least get him to visit the NetGo forums once in a while, I … we would appreciate that a lot."

The metronomic ticks of a clock jabbed at the silence. Hikaru finally turned, revealing a melancholy smile. "I wish I could help you, Touya, believe me. But I can't."

He took three sure steps toward the exit, and the automatic door slid open nonchalantly.

"I'll see you around." Hikaru skittered out before Akira could speak again.

He looked forward to dinner and as he walked, wondered out loud what his mother might have cooked. Gradually, his thoughts drifting to Sai, and he went the rest of the way in silence.


	4. Chapter 4

The following threads appeared on the NetGo forums the day after Hikaru met with Akira.

...

**Thread title: Meijin Touya's status update? **

**Charlie [7-22-02, 5:24:04 AM]:** Anyone knw wut happened to Meijin Touya's? Is he gonna be sending out the official moves?

**Mamo [PRO-5] [7-22-02, 7:42:09 AM]:** He's sent an official proposition. I proofread it myself, and I think there's a 99% chance they'll accept it. Check back tomorrow and you'll have the news.

**Charlie [7-22-02, 11:23:21 AM]:** Mamo: OK. Thanks.

**Hermes [PRO-3] [7-23-02, 6:23:42 PM]:** Hey, everyone. This is Akira Touya. My father just got a message from Dr. Peoples (the creator of Shusaku) that he's accepted his terms. Word is that the game will officially begin this Friday (July 26). I will make another thread detailing all of the rules that we ought to follow during the game. Stay tuned.

**Nono [7-23-02, 6:26:02 PM]:** Great news, Akira. Looking forward to this.

**Red [7-23-02, 6:27:59 PM]:** dis is epiiiiic!

**Kenji [7-23-02, 6:29:23 PM]:** Red: Agreed. I feel this game against Shusaku is indeed going to be epic, and I don't use that word lightly. This'll be momentous, biblical, etc.

**Kiss [7-23-02, 6:29:54 PM]:** Glad to see you at the helm, Akira. Keep us updated.

**[Thread continues]**

...

...

**Thread title: IMPORTANT: The Challenge Rules. Please read before posting!**

**Hermes [PRO-3] [7-24-02, 11:02:23 AM]: **Welcome to the NetGo Shusaku Challenge subforum. As many of you know already, I'm Akira Touya, a 3-dan Go player in Japan, and son of Meijin Touya, the current Go champion.

About a week ago, a group of researchers led by Dr. Samuel Peoples at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology unveiled Shusaku, a computer designed to play Go at the pro level, at the Kyoto Artificial Intelligence Conference. They issued an open challenge to the world: beat Shusaku in a standard Go game on a 19x19 board. A one million dollar prize awaits any organization that can defeat Shusaku.

The purpose of this subforum is so that we may discuss potential moves and strategies.

At the risk of typing up an entire wall of text, let me lay out the main points of this challenge point by point.

1. Shusaku is a Go playing program running on eight Intel 1.6GHz cores with 8GB RAM. For those of you not tech-savvy: that's a lot of processing power.

2. Shusaku's code will not be modified in any way after the challenge begins. That means that although Dr. Peoples and his team may read our forum, they will not be able to use any information here to cheat.

3. Shusaku will play white (which means we will play Black).

4. Standard tournament conditions will apply to this game (that means playing on a 19x19 board. Furthermore, White will have 6.5 points added to its score for playing second as per the rules of the International Go Federation).

5. Each side is allowed 24 hours to make a move.

6. Meijin (Kouyou) Touya will act as the representative for our forum. He will correspond with Dr. Peoples via e-mail and will send him our moves.

7. In case Meijin Touya, cannot send the move on time, I will send the move myself.

8. If either Black or White makes a move within 24 hours, they will give up any time remaining.

9. The victor will be decided according to standard tournament rules (i.e. either by resignation or by scoring).

Now, here are the suggestions for how I think we ought to handle the challenge.

10. Our moves should be decided by a simple poll. The move with the most votes will be sent to Meijin Touya, and he has agreed to stick with the move unless it is obviously a bad move.

11. Special effort should be invested to identify pros. I and a few other users have already begun tackling this project (a hearty thank you to the volunteers). Users who are confirmed pros will have the tag [PRO-#] next to their aliases, with the # being the dan according to the pro's most up-to-date rankings. For example, I have [PRO-3] next to my username, which means I am a 3-dan player. Amateurs will get an [A] tag and Inseis will get an [I] tag. If you are a pro, ranked amateur, or Insei, please message me or any of the following people for confirmation of your status:

-Aniki

-Koji

-Mamo

-Ogata

-Willow

12. Pros should be given extra votes according to their rankings. So, a 1-dan pro would be given 10 votes, and every extra dan would correspond to another 5 votes.

13. High ranking amateurs and Insei would be given 5 votes.

14. Unconfirmed users would be given 1 vote.

15. Each move should have its own thread for discussion.

That's about it. I want to keep it simple. I will be making a few threads in the future about this challenge, so please keep up to date with the forums! This thread will be stickied and locked. If you have any questions, please post them in the 'Questions and Answers' thread. I will not be moderating that thread (only making it), but we're all mature here (I hope), so I expect good questions and good answers and minimal trolling (linking to that ungodly Rick Astley video will result in an instant and permanent ban).

A last word: This is an incredible undertaking, I think, for all of us. Not just for Go enthusiasts, but for people in general. This match against Shusaku is going to be a battle between computer and humans, CPUs and brains, transistors and neurons. It's going to be a grand game. I know it. The world will be watching us, so let's give them something to cheer about.

The game will begin promptly at midnight on Friday, July 26, 2011.

...

...

**Thread title: IMPORTANT: Questions and Answers.**

**Hermes [PRO-3] [7-24-02, 1:04:53 PM]: **This is the thread for questions and answers. I encourage anyone and everyone to ask any questions related to the challenge rules, progress, strategy, tactics, or other miscellaneous stuff related. I also encourage anyone and everyone to give answers. Again, I expect maturity and serious inquiries/replies.

**Alex [7-24-02, 1:07:53 PM]: **I think this is the question on everyone's minds: Does Shusaku really play Go perfectly? Do we actually have hope of beating him?

**The Kid [7-24-02, 1:08:04 PM]: **So how many registered users do we have? Also, how many lurkers do we have?

**Ringer [7-24-02, 1:08:44 PM]: **so how do we plan to win this match if most of the pros are busy playing their tournaments

**Red [7-24-02, 1:11:32 PM]: **The Kid: it says right on the tin, broski. 10,204 registers users since lik 6 days ago. Damn son dats a lotta users lol. For lurkers: im not sure but I've heard the ratio is usually 10:1 for any message board, so maybe lik ~100,000 lurkers.

**Zeus [7-24-02, 1:12:02 PM]: **Alex: From what I've read and heard, Shusaku CANNOT play perfectly, but he can still put up one helluva game.

**Wintermute [7-24-02, 1:12:03 PM]: **Alex: Only rumors, but I think he can play perfectly.

Ringer: ┐('～`；)┌

**Brother [7-24-02, 1:12:24 PM]: **When is hermes going to make the thread for this first move?

**Jojojo [7-24-02, 1:13:30 PM]: **i herd computer go wuz rly rly rly far from being any gud? how cum shusaku plays so gud?

**Moon [7-24-02, 1:14:50 PM]: **Alex: This may not be much of an answer, but I believe (keyword: believe) that Shusaku plays perfectly.

**Kensou [7-24-02, 1:16:01 PM]: **Isn't discussing everything on a forum kind of … I dunno … like, unofficial? Is there no better way to find the best move than to run a poll every day?

**Koji [PRO-9] [7-24-02, 1:17:02 PM]: **Let me clear a few things up. Obviously, many of you aren't well-read in computer science or AI. I'll admit that even I only took up to reading about Go engines when I heard about Shusaku. Go is solvable because it is all information (i.e. what moves were made, what moves are legal, etc.) is known to all opponents. However, it is just humanly impossible for Go to be solved now (and probably ever). Yes, you can write some nice algorithms for your Go machine to play at a decent level, but to play perfectly? Absolutely not.

Ringer: The pros are all watching this game, and they'll contribute when they can. Trust me.

Brother: Patience, my son.

Jojojo: Please look on the floor. If you see a chunk of pink stuff, that's probably a piece of your brain.

**Ami [7-24-02, 1:17:45 PM]: **Kensou: I know what you're saying, but there's really no better way.

**San [7-24-02, 1:17:55 PM]: **Koji: Interesting.

**Wintermute [7-24-02, 1:19:47 PM]: **Kensou: I don't see a big problem with it. Look up Kasparov vs. the World on Yahoo. Same kind of match, but now it's against a computer instead of a world champion.

**Maru [7-24-02, 1:20:01 PM]: **It looks like whether or not we win the game is going to be decided by our strongest link. At least I hope so. That brings me to my question: Where is Sai?

**CaptainMidnight [7-24-02, 1:20:42 PM]: **when is the first move gonna be made?

**Dante [7-24-02, 1:21:55 PM]: **Maru: OOoooooOooO! Sai! Yeah, we could really use that guy right about now.

CaptainMidnight: Read the Challenge rules thread and you'll find out.

**Yuo [I] [7-24-02, 1:22:02 PM]: **Maru: Ah! I remember him! He hung out on NetGo a few summers ago. I think most of us remember that. Then he vanished, and then a fake one showed up. Then the real one came back and beat the Meijin in a 3 hour match. No idea where he is now though. (Also, sai could be a female. Who knows? He might be an alien).

**Mini [7-24-02, 1:22:17 PM]: **Maru: No idea, Maru. But I'm sure he's heard about the challenge by now. I bet he's taken an anonymous alias.

**Zelda [PRO-3] [7-24-02, 1:22:29 PM]: **Maru: I have a feeling he's still around. The world's too small for a player like sai to just vanish.

**Morpheus [7-24-02, 1:23:32 PM]: **Maru: I like Mini's idea. I think sai is watching us from the shadows. Also, if sai does show up, does he get a status or anything?

**ZeroCool [7-24-02, 1:23:44 PM]: **Yuo: Oh my god. I just had a crazy thought. （´-`）.｡oO(What if sai is actually Shusaku?)

**Mani [7-24-02, 1:24:08 PM]: **ZeroCool: DUN DUN DU~~~~~~N! Σ(ﾟДﾟ)

**Kenji [7-24-02, 1:24:29 PM]: **ZeroCool: Hahaha. I bet sai really was Shusaku, and the American guys were just testing it out on NetGo to see if he really worked. I mean, isn't that what you would do?

**Tkami[PRO-2] [7-24-02, 1:24:59 PM]: **ZeroCool: In that case we might be screwed because then Shusaku would have defeated the Meijin three years ago leaving the scientists 3 years to fine-tune the machine. Not to mention the hardware needed to run it has also gotten exponentially better in 3 years.

**[Thread continues]**

...

...

**Thread title: IMPORTANT: Grand Strategy.**

**Aniki [PRO-7] [7-24-02, 4:04:11 PM]: **This is the thread for discussing long-term game strategy. I don't think I need to say any more than that. It seems pretty self-explanatory.

Although the game won't start until Friday, we can talk about what kind of plan we ought to adopt.

Post away!

**Fisher [7-24-02, 4:06:01 PM]: **I think we should play the best move possible.

**Kim [I] [7-24-02, 4:06:50 PM]: **Fisher: Brilliant. I award you pro status.

**Hiro Protagonist [7-24-02, 4:06:50 PM]: **Since we're playing black, we should probably try to play a bit more aggressively in the beginning. Just my .02.

**Kiss [7-24-02, 4:07:22 PM]: **I don't think this thread is going to be extremely useful until the around move ~15-25. Maybe try to go for territory rather than central influence?

**Satoshi [7-24-02, 4:08:30 PM]: **Kim: If Shusaku is all that he's cracked up to be, then playing the best possible move is the only viable strategy. No tactics, no grand plan. Every move, whether it's a quiet move or a brilliant one, must be immaculate.

**Feel [7-24-02, 4:08:58 PM]: **the question is do we concentrate on normal calculated moves or big crazy moves?

**Kuro [7-24-02, 4:09:26 PM]: **Satoshi: Man. I love Pokémon. Oh, yeah, I also agree. *Nods*

**Charlie [7-24-02, 4:09:59 PM]: **Well, just to mix it up, I think we should play a more passive style. And by 'passive', I mean risk-averse. Seriously. It sounds like if you so much as twitch your finger the wrong way you'll lose the game instantly.

**GGG [7-24-02, 4:10:52 PM]: **I say we play cautiously.

**ZeroCool [7-24-02, 4:11:11 PM]: **First stone at 10-10 Go Seigen fuseki style.

**KKobayashi [A] [7-24-02, 4:11:44 PM]: **central control. definitely.

**M.k. [7-24-02, 4:12:07 PM]: **Capture all of Shusaku's stones in a ladder. There. I said it. Million dollars please.

****[Thread continues]****

...

...****  
><strong>**

**Thread title: Introductions.**

**Koji [PRO-9] [7-24-02, 7:42:24 PM]: **Hey, all. My name's Koji Mizutani, a Japanese pro playing in the Chinese and Korean circuits. You may know me as the guy who's currently in a match with the Meijin himself for the Asia Cup. I volunteered to moderate this forum because I am extremely (and let me emphasize that: _extremely_) interested in this Shusaku challenge.

No, I'm not very good at introductions, not even ones on the internet. Maybe you guys will do a better job.

**Aquarius [7-24-02, 7:44:04 PM]: **cool thread. i'm just a recreational player from . all of this is very interesting for me. I love baduk! good luck. (`･ω･´)

**Kita [I] [7-24-02, 7:45:00 PM]: **Hey, everyone. I'm an Insei from Tokyo. My name's Kitada, but you should call me Kita lol. I've been playing Go for as long as I can remember and usually I can win but its really humbling to play w/so many pros.

**Neuromancer [7-24-02, 7:45:06 PM]: **Just an occasional player from the United States (Boston to be exact). Lots of people over here have heard about this challenge already, and the news is getting bigger every day.

**Kou [7-24-02, 7:45:07 PM]: **Amateur from Germany here. I love NetGo!

**Tohru [7-24-02, 7:45:43 PM]: **Female amateur from Nagoya! I picked this name because I love Furuba! ヽ(´▽`)/

**Ziu [7-24-02, 7:46:15 PM]: **I also love NetGo! Glad we're getting more attention now. Oh, and I'm an amateur from Beijing.

**Marcus [A] [7-24-02, 7:46:19 PM]: **Amateur here. Represented the US in 1997. Glad to make your acquaintance.

**Hermes [PRO-3] [7-24-02, 7:46:30 PM]: **I guess I should introduce myself here. My name is Akira Touya. I'm a 3-dan professional player from Tokyo, Japan. I've been playing Go ever since I could pick up a stone.

Remember: If you need your status confirmed, please private message me or one of the volunteers.

**Mani [7-24-02, 7:46:49 PM]: **Japanese Insei here. Waiting for my status to be confirmed. I recognize a lot of names on this board already. Let's work hard together from now on! ヽ(´ー`)人(´_｀)人(`Д´)ノ

** diluna9232 [7-24-02, 7:46:55 PM]: **Buy Viagra now at a cheaper price!

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**Virgo [7-24-02, 7:47:16 PM]: **Hey, all. Amateur here from Russia. NetGo seems awesome. Hope we can start discussing the first move soon. Good luck, all!

**Pikachu [7-24-02, 7:47:40 PM]: **my mom tells me im too young to introduce myself so im doing it to annoy her. hiiiii~~! i lik 2 dance! ┏(・o･)┛ ┗ ( ･o･) ┓ ┏ ( ) ┛ ┗ (･o･ ) ┓ ┏(･o･)┛

**Newton [7-24-02, 7:47:44 PM]: **Recreational player from Canada. Go human beings!

**Mouse [7-24-02, 7:48:11 PM]: **Uhhhh yeah. Can we get rid of the spammer plz? Also I'm just a lurker from Korea.

**Okami [7-24-02, 7:48:22 PM]: **diluna9232: ＼| ￣ヘ￣|／＿＿＿＿＿＿＿θ ( *o*)/

**[Thread continues]**

...

...**  
><strong>

**Thread title: MOVE 1**

**Hermes [PRO-3] [7-24-02, 8:34:58 PM]: **This is the discussion for the first move. Recall that we are playing black. Our 24 hours officially starts at 12:00:00 AM, Friday the 26th, which means we must make a move by 11:59:59 PM, Saturday the 27th.

**Cc [7-24-02, 8:35:43 PM]: **16-17 standard fuseki. Let's do it.

**Tau [7-24-02, 8:35:59 PM]: **I vote for 4-4. Right on the star.

**Hikaru [PRO-1] [7-24-02, 8:36:04 PM]: **I think we should play 17-4.

**Lennon [7-24-02, 8:36:32 PM]: **Yaaay. Finally. I vote for 16-3

**Ziu [7-24-02, 8:36:55 PM]: **I think 3-3 is pretty standard.

**Nino [7-24-02, 8:37:11 PM]: **Well, the pro says 17-4, so I vote 17-4. Manifest destiny, right?

**Michael [7-24-02, 8:37:30 PM]: **Oohhh, didn't expect a pro in here so soon. We should play either on the star or a point next to it.

**Kikio [7-24-02, 8:37:48 PM]: **5-4! Go big or go home! ( ﾟ∀ﾟ)ｱﾊﾊ八八ﾉヽﾉヽﾉヽﾉ ＼ / ＼/ ＼

**Wintermute [7-24-02, 8:39:00 PM]: **17-4 or the like sounds good. Why not?

**Yuo [I] [7-24-02, 8:38:48 PM]: **For you lurkers out there: 17-4 goes for territory. The spots next to the stars toward the corners are considered securing moves since you can't really attack them from the corner. Moves on the star or wider aren't as secure, but exert more influence later on in the game. So if the opponent is really good, he stands a chance to wrest control of the corner. Assuming Shusaku is really good, I think we should go for territory.

**Jar0d [A] [7-24-02, 8:38:51 PM]: **Michael: What you just posted is tantamount to saying: either the sky is blue or it is not blue. Well of course you should play on a star or next to it! The question is which one.

**Fisher [7-24-02, 8:39:01 PM]: **The best possible move. Tengen, and play mirror Go. Reflect Shusaku's power right back at 'im! Like Mirror force! Anyone watch Yu-Gi-Oh?

**Hermes [PRO-3] [7-24-02, 8:39:26 PM]: **17-4 is a good move. I agree with Hikaru.

**Catt [7-24-02, 8:39:49 PM]: **Star. ******

**Morning [7-24-02, 8:39:55 PM]: **Yuo: Thanks for that. Let's go for territory.

**Iago [7-24-02, 8:39:55 PM]: **17-4 sounds good. And it's a courtesy move, right? Isn't black supposed to play on the right side of the board for the first move?

**Mantis [I] [7-24-02, 8:40:23 PM]: **I predict the poll with be split 60-40 for territory v. influence.

**Zelda [PRO-2] [7-24-02, 8:40:47 PM]: **Yes, 17-4 is a fine move. Let's do that.

** SSmith [7-24-02, 8:40:51 PM]: **Yuo: Nice explanation. 17-4 sounds good.

**Sandshrew [7-24-02, 8:41:28 PM]: **Well, if the 3 pros are all voting for 17-4, then I think I will too.

**Mark2 [7-24-02, 8:41:59 PM]: **I still think star is the best.

**Hiro Protagonist [7-24-02, 8:42:09 PM]: **Sandshrew: Yep. Exactly my sentiment.

**Marcus [A] [7-24-02, 8:42:10 PM]: **I think we should play on the tengen. I will edit this post later to explain why, but please consider it!

**Kenji [7-24-02, 8:42:15 PM]: **Imagine if straight from the beginning, playing one way leads to a loss and the other leads to a win with perfect play from both sides. Wouldn't that be wild?

**[Thread continues]**

...

...

By midnight, the territory move garnered 59.3% of the votes while the influence move garnered 34.1% of the votes.


	5. Chapter 5

"You know what trees really are?"

"No. I've never seen one in my life, Akari. Tell me more."

"Okay, let me rephrase that. If you played time in fast forward, what would a growing tree look like?"

"Hmmm… I'm not sure. Like a mushroom, maybe?"

"Yes, Hikaru. A plant grown in fast forward incidentally looks like a plant grown in fast forward. Duuuh."

"Mushrooms are fungi."

"Whatever! Just tell me what a tree looks like in fast forward."

"Well, alright. Give me a minute to think."

Hikaru coughed then and lifted a spoonful of curry to his mouth. Akira chewed thoughtfully as Hikaru's mother carried to the table the final dish of the night: eight skewers of yakitori. The dining room filled with a homely umami aroma and reminded him of the fried duck stands in Fukuoka.

The sky radiated a crepuscular vermilion and was bruised by patches of purple clouds. Twilight in Tokyo. The buildings glowed. Gnats and mosquitos alike buzzed about in stippled swarms. It was too late for the cicadas, too early for the fireflies, but warm and still bright enough for the children. July afforded them privilege to play outside after dinner. They laughed and shouted and Hikaru could hear them through the double paneled windows. I'm still one of them, he thought to himself.

He had talked to his mother after she spoke with Akira a few days prior. Such a nice and polite young man, she'd said. Why don't you ask him to join us for dinner? So he asked him. Hikaru found him at the Go salon monitoring the NetGo forums on a laptop. They exchanged a few prim greetings and Akira said he was rather busy but that he could join them for dinner. And what about that nice girl? asked his mother. You know … oh, what was her name … Akari, right? So he asked her too, and she said yes.

Hikaru coughed again as he negotiated another spoonful of curry.

"A bomb," said Akira. "Is that what you're thinking of?"

"Ah, that's right!" exclaimed Akari. "I was reading an online article the other day, and you know what it said about trees?"

Hikaru shook his head. He grabbed a skewer of yakitori. Akari wore a simple blue skirt and a red halter top with thin shoulder traps that threw her bronzed arms into sharp relief. Her face bounded with energy and when she turned to speak to him, her eyes stole a glint from the tangerine sunset.

"It said they're just really, really slow explosions!"

"Huh," said Akira, "I never really thought about trees that way before."

"And, you know," continued Akari, "a tree growing in fast forward is exactly what a Go playing program does! From the given position, Shusaku has to evaluate each potential move to see if it's good or not. And from that move, it branches off into more moves and then more moves. The number of possible moves grows really big really fast."

"I see," said Akira. "But does the hardware really exist to power those calculations?"

Akari shook her head. "Well, the article said that the technology doesn't exist to look more than four or five moves ahead. When the computer looks at a move, it has to evaluate its strength, and then it calculates the next move. Each single move it examines is called … a … oh, lemme think … was it a ploy? No … it was … yeah, a ply! It's called a ply." She quickly scooped up a lump of curry and downed it. "And then every two plies is called a depth. So if Shusaku's looking forward by two moves, one by black and one by white, then it's searching at depth one. See?"

"Got it," said Hikaru. "So what depth can Shusaku reach?"

She shrugged. "You'll have to ask the guys who programmed him."

"But to look at every single possible move and then every move that follows," said Akira, "isn't that a bit tedious?"

"Yeah, it's true," she said. "But there's something called a … heuristic? I think that's what it's called. Which is, like, hmmm … I guess you could say it's a push in the right direction. For example, if you're searching for a person who has five children or more, a good heuristic would be to only consider people who are over age forty. So in Go, in the first few moves, it's good practice to play on or next to the stars in the corners, right? Well, that's a heuristic you can feed into a Go playing program, and it'll avoid those moves that aren't near the corners. It's called pruning. Pruning, because you're cutting off lots of potential branches from the big decision tree."

"Ah, pruning!" beamed Hikaru's mother. "I just did some pruning yesterday for my Bonsai tree."

"Yes, it's the same concept. You cut off the dead branches from a Bonsai tree because it's useless for the tree. You also cut off dead branches from a decision tree because the move was terrible to begin with, so you don't bother looking any deeper."

"You're a very smart girl, Akari. Keep it up and you'll go to Toudai."

She accepted the compliment with a humble laugh and took a stick of yakitori. Akira also took one. Hikaru gulped down a spoonful of rice and then covered his mouth just in time to muffle a long, rasping cough. His lungs tingled.

"Are you okay, Hikaru?" asked Akari.

"I'm fine. It's probably a cold."

"Do you want to go see a doctor?" asked his mother.

"No, no. It's just a cold. It'll pass, I'm sure. My body will handle it."

"Hikaru," said Akira. "Don't overexert yourself."

"Thanks, I appreciate it, Akira. But I'll be fine. I promise." And then he coughed again. His nose felt loose, and when he sucked air through his nostrils, it emitted a coarse sputter of running mucus. "So how's the game going?" asked Hikaru, trying to change the subject.

"I thought you were keeping up with it," said Akira. He nibbled on his yakitori.

"Not recently. What move are we on?"

"It's our third move. The first move was at 17-4 as you recommended, and Shusaku went for the opposite corner on the star. Nothing out of the ordinary, but people were already saying that we lost because Shusaku played _on _the star and not next to it like we did. They argued that if Shusaku played on the star, then that must be the perfect opening, and since we didn't the perfect opening, we were lost. My goodness. It was utter bedlam for twenty four hours."

"Utter bedlam?"

"It's troubling," said Akira. "Lots of the threads that started out analyzing moves devolved into flame wars. The moderators can't keep up with the sheer number of posts coming in every day. And don't even start on the trolls. 1.42% of the voters for the first move wanted to play on the tengen." Akira swallowed a piece of grilled chicken. "It's troubling," he repeated.

"But can't you solve that problem with the tags? Wouldn't more people listen to the pros?"

"You'd think so, but everyone has their own opinion of what to play, and it's hard to convince them to change their sentiments. If we had a leader of some sort, like my father, it'd be easier. We could make moves faster and without all that bickering, but that would ruin the point of the challenge. It's supposed to be The World v. Shusaku, not Meijin Touya vs. Shusaku. It ought to be a democracy. Everyone should at least have the opportunity to contribute. And, yes, conflict will inevitably arise, but we'll be able to produce better moves than if just one person were playing. This way, our strategies won't be so parochial. We have the brainpower, we just need solidarity."

"Sounds like a lesson in how to structure a government."

"Exactly. I could be the president of a small country after this."

Hikaru almost began to tell him that knowing political science did not a good president make. Then he realized that it was supposed to be a joke. An attempt at humor from Akira was so rare that Hikaru had fallen into the habit of taking everything he'd said at face value. He coughed lightly and then reached over for his second yakitori. "So, where did we play next?"

"We played on the star."

"Because Shusaku did?"

"Correct. It got around 90% of the votes."

"And what did Shusaku play?"

"It played _next to_ the star. All of NetGo breathed a big sigh of relief after that. Everyone's a bit more sanguine now, I think."

"Oh, so you guys are talking about the computer Go challenge thingamabob?" asked Akari, rather proud that she finally figured it out.

Akira swallowed a mouthful of curry. "You've heard about it?"

"Of course," she said. "I read it in that article I told you about, and it was all over the evening news yesterday. It said over 30,000 users are participating in the challenge."

"And we get more every day," he said. "We need all the help we can get." He looked at Hikaru with those eyes that glistened like Aztec emeralds beneath his hair. He knew what he was thinking. You could have the Meijin, you could have Ogata, you could have every pro in the world, but without Sai, you did not stand a chance. If Sai played the computer, if Shusaku played Shusaku, who would win? Hikaru couldn't answer, because no one really knew how well the program could play. Not even the creators. They needed a good reference in order to measure its strength, and the weaker the opponent, the crummier the reference. Shusaku had never played against a 9-dan professional before.

"The opening moves aren't that critical," continued Akira. "I mean, so many games have been played that it's hard to get the first few moves wrong. You either play on the star or next to it. It's the middlegame that'll decide the victor. That's when the best moves are not so obvious. That's when you have to ponder a bit. And when that time comes, we'll need to find those moves. The perfect moves."

"Is Shusaku really that strong?" asked Akari.

"We can't tell yet. Again, we're only five moves deep. Even a beginner can study a bunch of games and play perfectly. Just wait a few more moves and we'll be able to tell if Shusaku is the real deal." He chewed off the last chunk of meat from his yakitori. "Akari, do you know about NetGo?"

"Sure. It's where you can play Go online, right?"

"Right," said Akira. "You should check out the NetGo message board if you have the chance. There's a special subforum for the Shusaku challenge, and we're getting tens of thousands of posts a day."

"Sounds interesting!"

Akari bit into her yakitori and then rinsed down the piece of grilled chicken with water. Hikaru suppressed a cough and then continued to chip away at his dune of curry.

Dusk descended upon Tokyo like a pall and covered it with its star-punched fabric. The children had stopped laughing and were probably home finishing homework or watching television. A rind of moonlight slowly hoisted itself up from the horizon. Akira set down his spoon on the empty plate in front of him and wiped the corners of his mouth with a napkin.

"Are you still hungry, Akira?" asked Hikaru's mother. "I still have some more curry left."

Akira waved politely and rose from the table. "No, thank you, ma'am. I've got to get going anyway."

"Then would you like some to take home with you, then?"

"You're too generous, Mrs. Shindou. Don't worry about me. The curry was delicious, but you'd spoil me if you gave me any. You should save it for your son. I already have plenty of things to eat at home."

"That's good to hear. Are you off to a practice session?"

"Something like that." Akira thanked her for the sumptuous meal and excused himself from the table. "Akari, it was a pleasure to have you for dinner," he said as the slipped on his jacket. "And Hikaru, I hope you feel better soon."

He bowed gracefully, left through the front door, and then eased it shut behind him. After a few ticks of silence, the kind that always comes when company goes, Hikaru's mother spoke up. "Such a proper and polite young man. You really should learn some manners from him, Hikaru."

"Yeah, yeah, you always say that about everyone, mom." Hikaru sniffled and then blew his nose into a napkin. His nostrils went off like vuvuzelas.

"I think I better go buy some medicine for you. Just wait here—"

"I'll go!" shouted Akari, launching up from her chair.

Both Hikaru and his mother bucked in their seats, startled. Neither of them had heard such a small girl speak so loudly before. Akari herself flushed a cherry red at her cheeks. She was half-embarrassed at her own voice, half-embarrassed at what it could have betrayed.

"I mean, I'll go," she said, this time equally and oppositely softer. "I just finished the curry anyway. I-It was really tasty."

"Well, that's very kind of you, Akari."

Hikaru wiped his nose, took a great swig of water, and stood up. "I'll go with you then."

"Eh?"

"My mom said I needed to learn some manners, so I guess I can start here. It would be impolite to let you go alone, right?"

"I-I guess. Sure."

"That's the spirit," exclaimed Hikaru's mother. "You two go on now, and I'll take care of the dishes. Shoo shoo!" She made a pushing motion with her hands as if to brush away some stray cats. Hikaru shrugged, grabbed his wallet, put on his shoes, and was out the front door. Akari took her handbag and followed sheepishly.

It was dark now. The last artifacts of sunlight withered away in the west. Blips of incandescence drifting round like floating lighthouses. Fireflies. The hot day had marinated the city in the humidity and extracted the earthen smell from the soil. Though nighttime had befallen this side of the world, the heat lingered on. Hikaru felt perfectly comfortable in his T-shirt and shorts as did Akari in her halter top and skirt. They walked for many minutes without conversation. The silence between them waxed like a pearl, each second was another speck of calcium on the developing gemstone. And as that silence stretched on, it became harder and harder to say anything. Perhaps the pearl would crack and be rendered imperfect.

They walked beyond the local roads and beyond the connecting streets. They passed Haze Middle School and its empty schoolyard. They passed the Shinto temple where they visited every year for good luck and they passed the high school. They made it to the main avenue and began to walk downtown. They passed a line of restaurants that all steamed with a confused odor of chicken, beans, vegetables, and garlic. After that, the air took on an industrial quality. The skyline sizzled in the distance. Traffic flowed hither and yon in two antiparallel streams of headlights and taillights. A jet barreled by overhead. They passed the Go Salon. The drug store was just up ahead.

Hikaru walked. The curry, still warm in his stomach, churned about, rippling out waves of pleasure. His throat itched, but he didn't feel a compulsion to cough. He didn't look back at Akari, but he could sketch her face in his imagination. He began with her cheeks, round and soft, and then traced the contours to her nose. In his mind, she carried a smile that was subtle but winsome all the same. The color of her eyes was the hardest part for him to picture perfectly, but he settled for the coronal orange that flared around the sun at twilight. Yes, she was cute, decided Hikaru. In fact, she had gotten infinitely cuter since last year. Before, he viewed her as just a child, what with her bite-sized frame and undeveloped features. But puberty worked its magic and she was getting the good end of the deal. Her hips were wider, her waist narrower. She'd grown at least a full cup size since graduation, and it would probably continue to grow all throughout high school. Her body had matured halfway to womanhood. Hikaru also felt something new, something animal. Instead of being only friends, he desired more. Simple touch. She was as fragile as a glass dove, and he wanted to keep her from shattering, keep her from flying away. Raging hormones? Who cares? It didn't cheapen the want he felt for her.

But there was also the problem of maturing. How would asking her out change the relationship between them? Even more important: how would that change his relationship with himself? Children have girl friends, grown-ups have girlfriends. And Hikaru did not want her to stay in the former category anymore. But having a girlfriend meant he would have to grow up. Grow up, learn some manners, stop being juvenile. The gravity of exiting childhood and having Akari teeter-tottered in his mind for a while. I'll take it slow, he decided.

With only a few paces left until they reached the drug store, Akari ended the silence, harvested the pearl.

"Hikaru." She had stopped in her tracks. Hikaru had also stopped. He turned around. Her cheeks burned red and her chin was adhered to her chest. She reached daintily into her handbag and pulled something out. It was a white folding fan with a purple tassel tied through a grommet on the fan's handle.

"It's something I got for you," she said. She stepped forward and presented it to him with both hands.

Hikaru regarded it, nonplussed. A bicycle rolled by and spumed up a cloud of dust. People brushed past them by inches, but they were so far away. He finally raised his hands to accept the gift. She peeped. At that precise moment, four nervous hands held onto the fan at the same time. He wasn't sure if it was him or Akari quivering; the fan kept that a secret. Hikaru pinned his gaze on the purple tassel, afraid to look up, afraid to find out what might change between them if she were looking up as well and if their eyes met. What impressive things a simple gesture like that could accomplish! His gut fluttered. Should I look up or not? he wondered. Ah, sod it all! Why am I thinking so much? I should just take the fan before this gets any more awkward. And there you go again! You just wasted another few seconds by thinking about taking the fan! Arg! Stop it! Infinite recursion!

Despite the sparks going off in his head, Hikaru received the fan soundlessly. She retracted her noodly arms while some distant car honked its horn. He summoned the courage to peer up; she was looking earthward and was as red as a tomato. He retreated his glanced and swallowed.

"How did you know to get me a fan?"

"I saw you carrying one around during the tournament the other day," she said, eyes still averted. "It was a bit tattered, so I thought I'd buy you a new one."

Hikaru turned the fan in his hand, inspected it, and then unfolded the pleated paper. On the front was a charcoaled black-and-white portrait of bamboo. The stalks were lively and detailed, and he could see micron-thin lines running down each leaf. The soft, gray smudges were proof that it had been hand-drawn and toiled over for many an hour.

"It's very pretty, Akari. Did you draw it yourself?"

"…Yes."

"I see," said Hikaru. "Thank you."

He closed the fan and held it like a conductor's baton, the way Sai held it for him. Just taking on that posture gave him a renewed confidence.

"You heard what my mother said: I need to learn some more manners. I couldn't square away my conscience unless I repaid you somehow. How about I treat you to dinner this weekend?"

Hikaru didn't think it would be possible for Akari to turn any redder, but she did, and she tried to hide it and failed.

"Yeah," she said. "I'd like that."

"Bear Burger, of course."

"Of course."

He smiled. "C'mon, let's go buy some medicine."


	6. Chapter 6

Sai stood stock-still like a statue amidst the infinite darkness. He wore an absolutely uninterested countenance. Eyes, nose, mouth – they were all there, but they betrayed no emotion. His violet lips bent in neither direction, and his skin was the color of sterile whitewash. Did he even have blood inside of him? He was a Greek sculpture that had had all its color eroded away by age and now showed only its desaturated marble core. His sokutai fluttered dispassionately about an unseen wind. Vision cast at something galactically distant, eyes sparkled like azure tapioca pearls. He seemed to radiate light, beating back the murk. He was a Victorian gaslight suspended in an ocean of India ink. A brilliant aureole hovered around his figure.

And from the blackness, Hikaru called out to him.

He pumped his legs, body slicked with sweat. His lungs burned with white phosphorus. He felt like he could inhale all the oxygen in the world, but the air was thick enough to stop a bullet. His legs were either paralyzed or nonexistent, because he couldn't feel them at all. Every gram of his flesh seemed to have been mixed with an equal part of Novocain. A numb, unfeeling stick of meat.

He somehow found the strength to call out again. His voice was a harsh rasp, and he wondered if the air would simply absorb his voice like soundproof foam.

"SAI!"

His name sprang forth into the isotropic void and quickly dissolved into Brownian noise. He ran and ran, but Sai never grew larger, never closer. It was as if the ground were equipped with a chronometer so that it rolled back at the exact speed that he was running. A cosmic treadmill.

Hikaru woke with a start.

His heart was tucked away in his stomach. His chest pounded like an amplifier tuned to eleven spewing out blasts of bass. After a few deep breaths, he regained his sanity. The heavy beats softened to discrete lub-dubs. His pajamas were mired in perspiration, and his hair was soaked. A dark puddle loitered on his pillow. He felt sticky and wrought with malaise. It was morning time. Hikaru often had that dream. It grew less frequent over the months after Sai had vanished, but they still haunted him, sometimes in daymares. And he always woke up sodden in sweat. Occasionally, he woke up crying.

He got out of bed and wiped off the sweat with a dirty shirt.

No sign of the cold. He'd taken some medicine yesterday night, and it looked like it was working.

He brushed his teeth, took a shower, and slipped on a pair of cargo shorts and a football jersey that had "10" emblazoned on the back in and "MARADONA" above it in three inch capitals. Diego Maradona was his favorite football player, and Hikaru sometimes watched him in play for Argentina on the sports channel. He went to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of orange juice and found a post-it on the refrigerator: "Hikaru, I left some curry for you in the fridge. Heat it up for two minutes in the microwave. I'll be back to make dinner. Mom." He took out the saran-wrapped dish of curry, nuked it as he was instructed, and ate it.

His completed his morning routine faster than he usually did. He was anxious to check the NetGo forums. He threw sundry items into his blue and black knapsack and set off on a jog for the Internet Café.

He arrived there in eight minutes. He usually got there in nine. He paid the clerk ten yen for two hours. Mitani's sister wasn't working today, probably wasn't working this summer at all. Hikaru shrugged and logged onto NetGo.

Akira wasn't kidding (not that Hikaru expected him to kid, but it was shocking either way). Four out of the five threads he clicked on ended in flame wars. It would always start with a serious post about a move, and when someone offered constructive criticism, niceties and formalities were dropped. Hikaru's swear vocabulary expanded twofold in just three hours of browsing. Only the pros were spared from the verbal assaults. Their tags afforded them a degree of protection. When one of them posted a move supplemented by a convincing analysis, the thread usually stayed on track and churned out some useful analysis. And only the forum big-shots seemed to have any clout. It was a patent aristocracy, and the tag next to your name was your title. A [PRO-9] was a duke, a [PRO-8] was a marquis, a [PRO-7] was an earl, and so and so forth. The Meijin himself was the king, but his post count remained at zero.

Hikaru scrolled through the challenge subforum and clicked on the thread for the current move.

…

…

**Thread title: MOVE 6**

**Hermes [PRO-3] [7-29-02, 11:24:24 PM]: **This is the discussion for the sixth move, our third move. Our 24 hours officially starts at 12:00:00 AM, Monday the 29th, which means we must make a move by 11:59:59 PM on the same day.

**Kero [7-29-02, 11:24:29 PM]: **First!

**Tuco [7-29-02, 11:24:30 PM]: **first post.

**Koji [PRO-9] [7-29-02, 11**:**24:34 PM]: **This is a copy and paste so that people will see this.

Our opening so far is very standard. Now that all four corners are occupied, we can either attack or reinforce. Both are sound strategies, though I usually prefer to attack (as many of you know). Of course, I'm sure you've all heard of the proverb that the best defense is a good offense. If we can shut down one of the corners early in the game, we'll have more breathing room in the middlegame. Thus my vote is for 15-17, which starts an attack on the northeast corner. If you're anything above a recreational player, this move should need no explanation. It has been standard fuseki for hundreds of years, and there have been entire books written on the subject. But for those of your lurkers who don't really play Go:

Right now, Shusaku has an outpost on the corner, but it's a single stone without reinforcements. By keeping our distance and aiming to contain White to the corner, we threaten to claim more territory. This is really the Rolls-Royce attacking line of Go. You can pull some cute opening novelties if you want, but this one has been tried and true for hundreds of years, and if it isn't the perfect move, it's got to be damned close.

…

**Marcus [A] [7-29-02, 11:26:43 PM]: **Koji It's definitely a fine move, but let's not go so bullheadedly into the fray without first considering all our options. Yes, we can attack, and it's the move I usually play as well, but remember: we're dealing with Shusaku here. So, I'll play Devil's Advocate for moment: we've already seen from games like chess and checkers that computers are notoriously good at defending; they always seem to devote just enough resources to blocking off an assault while allocating the leftover moves for counterplay. If we play the defensive 15-3 instead, we can still claim territory but we obviate the risk of having our attack fall flat. Please consider it.

…

**Kita [I] [7-29-02, 11:27:29 PM]: **I've gone and looked up all the moves that have been played by black in this situation. Out of 104,846 recorded matches, black attacked 68.42% of the time on the third move or was already attacking. Black defended or peacefully extended territory 27.84% of the time, and the rest of the moves is classified as "miscellaneous".

Of the 68.42% games where Black attacked, Black won 65.64% of the time. However, this statistic considers matches that were played with a komi of fewer than 5.5 moku, which gives Black a distinct advantage. Of all the matches played with a komi of 5.5 moku, Black has won 54.69% of the time.

Same story with the defending games. Of the 27.84% games where Black defended or tried to gain more territory, Black won 63.83% of the time, and if we consider only recent games with modern komi, Black won 53.03% of the time.

So, just from my statistics, it looks like attacking is the winning option. Of course, "attack" is an umbrella term for a whole host of moves. But out of all those moves considered to be attacking, Koji's suggestion, 15-17 has the best chance of Black winning with 68.11% and 55.50% when adjusted for modern komi.

…

**Koji [PRO-9] [7-29-02, 11:29:24 PM]:** Marcus Like I said, defending is a viable option, but we are so much better off just attacking. Look at it this way: we still don't know anything about Shusaku's playing style, so we ought to remain flexible and ready to respond to any threats he'll make. The best way to do this is to attack. Always maintain your search for the initiative, and make your opponent respond rather than responding to your opponents. Playing this way has won me three titles. How many has defending won you?

Please go over and review some games and compare attacking v. defending. Tell me how many games were peaceful and how many were full of conflict.

Furthermore, it looks like the NetGo forums can't really handle discussing moves politely and rationally. Therefore, I will make my own thread for each move starting from move 8, and I will post my analysis for what I think is the best move. Stay tuned.

**[Thread continues]**

…

…

Hikaru recalled someone by the name of Koji Mizutani. Wasn't he supposed to be playing the Meijin for a title? Akira said something about him, hadn't he? Hikaru decided to search for 'Koji Mizutani' on Yahoo (he preferred this over the Google search engine) and found a slew of hits on the Go channels. GoBase, WinGo, IGF, GoFed. Hikaru clicked on his profile links and studied them.

He was born in Nagoya and was the son of Hideki Mizutani, a skilled but ordinary Go pro. Koji first attracted attention at the Seoul Youth Go tournament by trouncing his opponents and winning the competition with zero losses. He qualified for stronger and stronger tournaments and played pros evenly while still an Insei. He turned pro at age 12, the third youngest ever, achieving perfect results on his exams. The next year, he won a string of semi-strong tournaments across the Japanese and South Korean Go circuits and was named Rookie of the Year by the International Go Federation at the end of 1989. By 17, he won his first title at the Tokyo Cup and successfully defended it three times in a row. He achieved a 9-dan ranking at age 19, a record still unbroken after seven years.

WinGo had this to say about him:

"Known as the 'Dragon from Nagoya', Mizutani epitomizes the attacking player, having developed a superlative style of offense. His moves consistently places pressure on his opponents, and he often sacrifices his own territory for the initiative, which is defined as the ability to pose threats to which an opponent must reply. With such brilliant sacrifices, he creates intricate complications over the board, unsettling many of his opponents who seldom respond with satisfactory moves to address them all. By relying on his superlative calculating ability (he placed first in many math competitions as a child), Mizutani can afford to take risks.

He excels at complicated positions and has been praised by American Go champion Eric Bickford for his ability to find the right move very quickly in such positional quagmires. His famous semi-final match against Korean master Kyoungmin Park featured a move from Mizutani that many commentators called a blunder upon first inspection, but later turned out to have occupied a critical outpost that secured his victory when Park failed to find the correct response.

Perhaps Mizutani's strongest weapon his psychological edge. For title matches, he always researches his opponent's games and adjusts his own playing style accordingly for the upcoming matches. Commentators have noted that he sometimes plays deliberately inferior moves that he knows will make his opponents uncomfortable. In his Tengen Cup match against Japanese 9-dan Seiji Ogata in 1999, Mizutani played the notorious 12-13, which immediately appeared as a bad move, but one which Ogata could not find a way to exploit. For the rest of the match, Ogata was seen fidgeting and gritting his teeth. Chinese commentator Li Xiaoqing described the move as 'a mouse offering itself to a fangless snake'. Mizutani eventually went on to win the match and the title.

He has received some criticism for his allegedly arrogant accounts of his games in the Go articles that he writes for _Go Weekly_. Go author Rei Nakamura notes that he has been known to talk down to lesser players and is stubborn when it comes to losses, blaming many of them on bad luck or sickness.

Mizutani often plays online. His alias on NetGo is 'Koji'."

Hikaru checked back on the thread for Move 6. Over a hundred posts had appeared in the time it took to research Koji Mizutani and read about him. Hikaru skimmed. Most of them agreed Koji's attacking strategy. A few users urged everyone to at least consider the other possibilities, but they were either ignored or censured.

"Why not keep an open mind?" typed one user named Roland. "If we get too involved in a single way of thinking, we'll be on the path to defeat. We need everyone's input to stay flexible. Don't get me wrong; I like Koji's idea of attacking as much as the next guy. All I'm asking is that in the future, we don't just charge into the battle so quickly. From what I'm seeing, most of you have agreed to Koji's analysis without a second thought. A lot of users are also flaming people who want to defend. That's not a good thing. Could we please exercise some more respect from now on?"

Hikaru liked that. What he was saying made sense. But when he scrolled, he realized that Roland's message hadn't even made a dent in the thread. People were flaming other users in an invisible mob kind of mentality, crucifying the heretics. Destructive groupthink. He also noticed that none of the people who advocated defending bore any tags by their names. Maybe if they did, others would listen to them. Would it really make a difference? Hikaru wanted to find out, so he clicked "reply" and began to type.

…

…

**Hikaru [PRO-1] [7-29-02, 11:47:02 PM]: **I think we should defend. Yes, I know that that idea is unpopular, but let's at least consider it. If we reinforce our position, we stand to gain a near-guaranteed tract of territory. If we attack, then we'll either gain a lot or lose a lot. In other words, attacking is riskier, reinforcing is safer. Now, Marcus brought up a point earlier about computers and their playing styles. If it's true that computers are masters at defending (and I don't doubt they are), then the choice should be simple, right? Take these three premises:

1) Reinforcing is safer.

2) Attacking is riskier.

3) Computers are good at defending attacks.

And the answer should be obvious, right?

Let me say that I usually attack when I am playing Black, but this time, I think it would be wise to defend.

…

…

He immediately received responses. Some of them agreed with his notion, but most of them did not. The ones who berated Roland and Marcus for not having any tags now berated him for only being a 1-dan. A majority of the initial reactions were curt and sterile. He waited a few minutes for the more mature respondents to finish typing their posts (which were almost always lengthier). Finally, after ten minutes, the big man himself replied. Hikaru guessed that he must have felt a duty to address the grievances of a fellow pro.

…

...

**Koji [PRO-9] [7-29-02, 11:57:19 PM]: **Hikaru, your proposal is misguided. The situation isn't simple enough to reduce to three premises and using straight logic. Yes, reinforcing is safer, but that just transfers the initiative over to White. We don't want that. We need to attack. It's as simple as that. If you can't comprehend that, then you may need to have a doctor reevaluate the integrity of your mental facilities.

Even though you're a pro, I'll forgive your ill-advised idea this once. After all, you're still a 1-dan, so you have much to learn.

…

…

That was all. A string of posts followed in quick succession.

…

…

**Zone [7-29-02, 11:57:51 PM]: **Owned

**Kraken [7-29-02, 11:57:59 PM]: **Lol hikaru. Who do u thnk u r?

**Loser [7-29-02, 11:58:02 PM]: **Hikaru: hope you learned your lesson pal.

**Mani [7-29-02, 11:58:09 PM]: **Hikaru: noob

**Beetle [7-29-02, 11:58:16 PM]: **why does any1 still want 2 play defense? Just look at kojis analysis dummies. DUMB DUMB DUMB

…

…

Hikaru grimaced and didn't refresh the page any more. He had the answer to his earlier question: his tag didn't make a difference. That's stupid, he thought. So, Koji already has a whole army of minions, huh? What a sham.

He scrolled back through the earlier posts he hadn't read and saw the same pattern. Anyone who disagreed with the 9-dan was bulldozed into silence. One other pro had replied before him: Aurora [PRO-8]. His (her?) post took up half the screen and simply said that although attacking was probably the best option, the users should also consider other moves before committing. Aurora took the least backlash by virtue of his tag. Most of the reactions mounted to shrugs and 'whatevers'.

Hikaru continued to browse the message board with a bitter taste in his mouth. He wasn't really reading; his eyes flitted over words, but his brain didn't absorb any of them. His mind was somewhere else. The title of pro, which had garnered him so much respect in the real world, was nothing more than a decoration on NetGo. He was just a pedestrian. He had no agency; he was outside the Shusaku challenge's diegesis. No way he could focus on reading anymore.

And then it hit him.

He had a secret weapon. His own Ace in the Hole. It was Sai. His identity, his username. He still knew the password, and he could login to NetGo as Sai. He could use it during an emergency. And what exactly constitutes an emergency? he asked himself. If the users can't decide on a move? If the winning move on the poll wasn't to his liking? That was up to his discretion. Hikaru felt invigorated, as if someone had injected him with a boost of boiling adrenaline. He could almost break out of his skin. He felt the energy, the spirit of Shusaku, pump from his arteries and into his capillaries where it crossed into tissue by electrical osmosis. His nerves were live-wires, his brain was a nuclear reactor, his mind was a centrifuge spinning at fifty thousand revolutions per minute.

He imagined the fireworks that would occur if he were to post a message. Within five seconds, a horde of users from Japan, Korea, China, the United States, would all start to clamor.

"Sai? Is that really Sai?" "Oh my god! It's Sai!" "No way!" "Wow, where have you been! We've needed your help!" "Save us, Sai!" "Sai, you're the strongest player alive. Save our souls."

Sure, some of them might accuse him of being a fake Sai, but those voices would get drowned out amidst the pages and pages of messages welcoming his return. It would be like jacking into the body of Jesus after he rose from the dead. They would listen to whatever he had to say with the kind of deference afforded only to five star generals. If he posted a move, it would virtually guarantee its victory in the daily poll. All he had to do was type two numbers. But he had to save it. He had only one round in the chamber. It absolutely, positively, had to be a move played by the Hand of God.

Hikaru found himself winded. He took a pull of water and exhaled. Oh my god, he thought. This is exactly what Koji is doing. What the hell is going on? I haven't even logged on yet, and I'm like this. Just the having the _ability _to login as Sai sent me into loonyland.

Guilt swept over him. Sai was supposed to be Sai's alias. To take advantage of his username felt intuitively wrong. He felt like he had personally insulted Sai. Worse, Hikaru realized that he was no better than Koji. He was contemplating about _using _Sai the way he used his [PRO-9] tag.

When he was in 4th grade, his family had gone out to a restaurant to celebrate his birthday. His parents downed a sip of white wine from a thick porcelain cup without trouble. They held it in their mouths to enjoy the taste and then swallowed painlessly. They then offered him to take a swig. He remembered smelling the heady liquid and almost gagging, but his father encouraged him with a semi-smile to just go for it. So he did. It was only a tiny mouthful, not even enough to slake the thirst of a small rodent, but he relented immediately and sprayed the wine all over the tablecloth. After the waiter cleaned it up, he felt awful. It felt like his stomach was filled with molten lead. And that's how Hikaru felt now sitting in the Internet Café at half past noon: disgusted and nauseous. Even the acrid tang of ethanol seemed to have materialized on his tongue. He wanted to apologize, but he knew Sai wasn't there.

Hikaru logged off in revulsion. He promised to Sai that he wouldn't touch his account, but he didn't feel any better.


	7. Chapter 7

The medicine had calmed Hikaru's cold yesterday, but now it came swelling back. For the remainder of the night, he had a constant itch on the back of his throat, and his nose was a mucus factory. It was annoying but manageable once he pumped enough Dr. Tanaka's Cold Remedy™ into his system. He took two spoonfuls of the stuff every day for the next five days; one in the morning, one at night. On Tuesday, his symptoms softened, and he felt well enough to visit the Internet Café.

Not surprisingly, Koji's move won with 66.21% of the votes. We were going to attack.

At 12:00:00 AM, Tuesday the 30th, 2002, the official display Go board on NetGo updated. A new, black stone appeared on 15-17 right at the tick of midnight. Users from 65 countries and six continents (Almost seven. There was a Go enthusiast at McMurdo Station, Antarctica who meant to check the site but fell asleep instead) called for the new data from the NetGo servers in Osaka, Japan. Requests shuttled down various digital avenues and clustered at NetGo's electronic gates like shoppers on Black Friday for the updated board. 50% off. The servers buckled under the weight of the traffic but did not crash. The administrators there had installed four new servers last Monday.

Within two minutes, exactly 35,912 streams of data carrying several megabytes worth of encrypted code had reached their targets. Another 301,648 streams would be sent out in the next 24 hours.

NetGo now boasted a grand total of 41,328 registered users, and if the 100:10:1 rule* was true, then Hikaru figured there would be around half a million lurkers. Not a paltry amount, but nothing to bake a cake over.

Shusaku's 24 hours of think-time had started. The forums saw a marked drop in activity, and the users who did post mostly discussed what move they should play next. Not very interesting. Hikaru refreshed the page. Topics were rolling off the front page on an assembly line to oblivion. Most of them had fewer than ten replies, but one had over a hundred. Hikaru clicked on it.

…

…

**Thread title: Shusaku discussion.**

**Dragonite [7-30-02, 5:29:42 AM]: **Hi, all. I thought I'd create a topic about Shusaku himself (he's a male to me, damnit!). I read up on the machine over the past few hours. I visited Dr. Peoples's website and it just gives me some generic blurb about Shusaku and blah, blah, blah. I even used my university's electronic journal subscriptions to hunt down this guy's paper on Shusaku. I didn't understand 90% of it, and what I did understand didn't really cover anything important about him at all. This bothers me. Here we are playing some computer from outer space, and we don't even know the first thing about it. There aren't any recorded games on the web, we know nothing about how it thinks, how it plays, how it's programmed, etc.

So, if any of you guys have some info on Shusaku, I would (and I'm sure the forum would, too) love to heard it. But since I started the topic, I guess I should lay down what I know.

Like I said, I only understood 10% of that AI paper, but from what I read, I gathered that:

-Shusaku is a learning machine that has reviewed thousands and thousands and thousands of games for patterns.

-He's also apparently programmed with some "powerful heuristic" that the authors couldn't reveal because it's copyrighted.

-Shusaku can perform very deep searches for the best move. I'm not exactly sure what a depth search is, but whatever.

And, yeah. That's actually it. That's all I got. Sorry. But if someone understands computers better than I do (and I'm sure there are tons on this board), then feel free to disabuse me (or abuse. Why not?)

**Marcus [A] [7-25-02, 5:33:59 AM]: **Dragonite: I program for a living, and let me elaborate on the points you've made.

Shusaku is a learning machine, which means that it's looked at those thousands of games for good opening moves. We have a user, Kita, who's doing this same thing. He's looking at a database of matches and finding where people have played at a particular position and what the win rate is. So, we're playing history, in a sense.

'Heuristic' is just a fancy word for rule. All problem solving entities employ heuristics to some extent. That includes you. If you're looking for your car keys, you're not going to look for them in the house across the street.

A depth search is when a computer looks many moves ahead to see where to play. If Shusaku is searching for a move at depth 20, then he's looking 40 moves ahead (20 of our moves, 20 of his moves). And that's probably what Shusaku can achieve. Depth 20, more or less. But that's just a guess. It depends on what kind of 'powerful heuristic' he's using. For example, if he's using a really simple heuristic like "only play next to your opponent's last move", then he can easily go searching at depth 1000. But that's a terrible heuristic, and he's not gonna win that way. The more complex the heuristic, the stronger he is, but the shallower the depth (because it takes more time to search). So, like I said, I think Shusaku's hovering at around depth 20 all the time with a moderately strong heuristic.

**Dragonite [7-25-02, 5:36:12 AM]: **Marcus: Ah, thank you, good sir.

**Marcus [A] [7-25-02, 5:39:46 AM]: **Dragonite: No problem.

This is also why I don't think our latest move is very good. If you're playing against a machine, the way to win is to play conservatively. You can see this in checkers and chess. By making defensive moves for a long-term advantage, Shusaku won't be able to see far enough to respond correctly with his limited depth search (he just won't be able to search deep enough). This is also why I didn't like the first move at 17-4. Yes, it secures territory, but it won't be very influential later on. You have to understand that computers are very near-sighted. The more positional we play, the better chance we have at winning.

But now that we've committed to attacking, there's really not much I can suggest.

**Daemon [7-30-02, 5:40:22 AM]: **Marcus: Yeah, ok. (¬_¬)

You're the troll who wanted to play on the tengen for the first move.

**Dumbo [7-30-02, 5:41:30 AM]: **Daemon: that's him alright. dont listen to this loser. Troooollllll.

**Rooster [7-30-02, 5:42:11 AM]: **troll status confirmed.

**Roland [7-30-02, 5:44:40 AM]: **Marcus: Yes, I supported you for the third move, but, like Daemon over there, I was convinced you were a troll because you wanted to play right on the center star on the first move. What gives?

**Marcus [A] [7-30-02, 5:47:29 AM]:** Roland: Good question.

Dragonite said earlier that Shusaku has looked through many games for patterns. It relies on statistics to find a good move in the opening. As you know, a vast majority of games follow the same opening lines by occupying the corners and then attacking. However, relatively few serious games have started out on the center star. I was hoping that by playing on the tengen, we could throw off Shusaku by making him toss his 100,000 games out the window.

Although few pros open at tengen nowadays, it's not a terrible move by any means. Many players have experimented with this strategy in the past, particularly Kubomatsu Katsukiyo. Look him up. It's indeed a viable opening.

Furthermore, if you look back to Garry Kasparov's game against Deep Blue in 1997, you'll see that he started off with a rarely-played move known as the Mieses opening with the same idea of pulling the computer from its opening book.

Lastly, the tengen is arguably the most influential spot on the board. What better place to play against a computer than there?

**ZeroCool [7-30-02, 5:48:39 AM]: **Marcus: If the tengen is so good, then why don't people play it all the time?

**EDantes [7-30-02, 5:49:51 AM]: **Marcus: Wow, that's pretty convincing, actually.

**Piccolo [7-30-02, 5:50:00 AM]: **Watch out everyone, we've got a very good troll on our hands.

**Marcus [A] [7-30-02, 5:52:45 AM]: **ZeroCool: The tengen is not a bad spot to play on, it's just that it's easier for us (i.e. humans) to see what's happening by playing on the corners first. The tengen might not have a real effect until close to the endgame, whereas the corner stars immediately stake a claim for territory. So, you can't say that the tengen is bad, it's just that we can't see how good it is. And in that way, we're a lot like Shusaku. We're also near-sighted. The only advantage we have over him is that we're capable of great positional play. Here's a quote I found on the internet:

_I cannot say definitely that tengen is bad. However, the reason tengen is hardly ever seen today in pro games is not that tengen is disadvantageous, but that, as that venerable old man Taisaku said, its variations are limitless. And since one cannot analyse it as thoroughly as the four corners, everyone plays safe and does not even contemplate playing tengen._

Look at it another way. Take the trivial case of a 1x1 board. The only place to play is the tengen. We'll ignore even numbered boards because there's no center.

Now, take a look at a 3x3 board. Computers have already solved this easy problem. The center is the best move. The same thing is true for 5x5 boards. Although computers have _not _solved 7x7 boards, it's pretty easy to see where the best opening move is: tengen. I can say this with confidence because people often play on 9x9 boards (which are obviously more complex than 7x7 boards). Pros almost always play on the center in serious games for this board size.

As the dimensions increase, things get cloudier. On a 13x13 board, tengen is still a strong opening move, but people usually play closer to the corners. That's because we can't see all the strategic intricacies on a 13x13 board like we can on smaller boards.

Then, there's the 19x19 board. If a person from the future, from a time when Go is completely solved, if that person held a gun (or plasma rifle. I don't know) to my head and asked me where the perfect move is, I would have to guess the center. There's just no other answer.

**[Thread continues]**

…

…

Hikaru browsed some more threads, mostly lurking. He grew bored quickly and returned home in time for dinner.

He did not visit the Internet Café on Wednesday. He still had summer homework to complete, so he worked on that instead. It was mostly busy work. Read a few easy novels for the sake of reading them and then write a one-thousand character review for each one. English homework consisted of something similar, but the novels were shorter, and the essay requirements were more lenient: just two pages, double spaced, 12-point font, Times New Roman. He plowed through two novels in twelve hours. One Japanese, one English. Kid's stuff.

Akari called him on Thursday. You know, just to talk.

"Hello?"

"This is Akari. Is Hikaru there?"

"Akari who?"

"Cut it out, Hikaru. Did your cold get worse? Your voice sounds weird. Your nose must be clogged or something."

"I have it under control, _mother_."

"I'm just worried, you know."

"I know. Don't think I don't appreciate that."

Silence.

"I just called to see how things are going. What you were up to."

"Nothing much. I managed to read a little bit yesterday. So far, _Shiloh _is not a very interesting book, especially when you don't understand half the words. The days've been very lazy. Hmm… that's just an indirect way of saying _I've _been very lazy, isn't it?" He could visualize Akari nodding on the other end of the line.

"You can afford to be. We've still got a month of vacation left. At least you got some work done. I wouldn't call that being lazy."

"Yeah, but for every minute I do work, I spend five studying games and looking at magazines."

"Go magazines?"

"Affirmative."

"Anything interesting?"

"Lots of coverage on the challenge, but nothing you can't read about by just browsing the NetGo forums for, like, ten minutes. I swear, they must get half their info from there."

"Oh, right. I checked out that site. Pretty cool stuff."

"Pretty cool stuff," he echoed.

"Yeah. I didn't realize it was so big. When Akira said it had that many users, I thought he was just joking around."

"That's one thing you learn about him. He never jokes around." Well, not entirely true. Hikaru recalled that quip about running a small country.

"I even made a few posts there," said Akari.

"Really? What's your username?"

"Will you tell me yours if I tell you mine?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Okay. Mine's 'Akari'."

" 'Hikaru'."

"Very original."

"Thanks. You too."

"In English, they call that 'sarcasm'."

"Oh? I didn't know that. You must be _so_ smart, Akari."

"Thank y-Hey!"

Hikaru offered a hearty laugh and Akari reciprocated with a giggle. She knows when someone's teasing her, and that's good. When you can make the other person smile, then the argument is over.

"Anyway," said Akari, "I can't make Saturday. How about Sunday instead? Same time, same place."

"Oh, you're talking about dinner?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Yeah, that's fine with me."

"Alright. Then I'll be waiting."

"See ya later, alligator."

"After a while, crocodile."

Click.

Hikaru stared at the receiver for a few seconds. The pores looked like a plastic honeycomb. It emitted a robotic and unbreaking hum. On a whim, he dialed Akira's number. The ringback tone sounded three times before a voice surfaced on the other side.

"Hello?"

Why the hell did he call Akira? What was he going to talk about? The situation had gone past the point of no return. He felt like someone who had just proclaimed a robbery in a crowded bank with no intention of actually robbing it. After that, you could go through with it or recant and say it was just a prank. Either way, you were spending the night in the cooler. Unless, of course, you got away with the money.

Wing it. A decade of schooling had sharpened that skill to a tang.

"Hey, Akira. What's up?"

"Hikaru? I'm just taking a break from NetGo. How's your cold?"

Oh, here we go again. "It's real peachy. Been taking some medicine to keep it under control."

"I'm glad to hear that."

"Yeah, me too."

Someone once told him that maintaining a conversation was like trying to keep a volleyball in the air for as long as possible. You serve it with a greeting, and the other side hits it back with a response. You bop it back, they bop it back, the dialogue flows right along. Occasionally, you infuse some finesse into the contact, but don't spike the ball so hard that the other side can't return it. When the ball does hit the ground, that's akin to an awkward pause. And boy, did the ball totally make some deep impact with the ground just then.

"Errr… was there some you needed?" asked Akira.

"Uh, yeah." Think, Hikaru, think. Oh yes! "How's your father's match with that Koji person coming along?"

"Koji Mizutani. The first game's on Monday."

"Oh."

"Is that all?"

No, that is not all, damnit. "You've seen Koji's influence on NetGo, haven't you?"

"I have," he said. "But it's not like I disagree with any of his moves."

"There's a lot of potential there for abuse, though. You said yourself that it should be The World vs. Shusaku, right?"

"I did. But it's impossible for something like NetGo to be totally headless. Naturally, the person who analyzes the moves early and thoroughly will become a de facto leader, and Mr. Mizutani is a fine person for that role. It really can't be helped either way."

"I see. My mom also wanted me to thank you for coming to dinner. She said she forgot to do that earlier."

"Tell her that the pleasure was mine."

"I will."

"Is there anything else?" His tone reminded Hikaru of an impatient waiter trying to take an order as quickly as possible because he gets off work in ten minutes.

"Nothing else. Later, Akira."

"Goodbye."

Click.

Hikaru finished _Shiloh_ that night and finished his review of it on Friday. Two-and-a-half out of five stars.

Hikaru woke up on Saturday in peace. He hadn't had nightmares of the statuesque Sai since Monday. That's a good sign, he thought. Today's looking to be a good day.

He went through his morning routine, swallowed a tablespoon of Dr. Tanaka's Cold Remedy™, and headed for the Internet Café, arriving in eleven minutes, two minutes later than usual.

He had some catching up to do. Since his last visit, White had made three moves and Black had made two. He typed in his username and password and clicked "Login". He sneezed into his arm and sniffled. Maybe the medicine had lost its strength? He shrugged and retrieved a roll of toilet paper from the bathroom.

When he returned, his login request still hadn't finished processing. Weird.

A minute passed, two minutes, and he was finally through.

Something had happened.

Hikaru distinctly remembered the Shusaku challenge subforum having around 50,000 posts on Monday, but it had doubled to 100,000 today. The number of users had ballooned to 60,429 from the 40-something-thousand just five days ago. What the heck?

He clicked on the "View Official Challenge Board" button and waited for the digital board to appear. The screen assembled itself in parts. The ad banners loaded first (no, I do not want a free iPod, thank you very much), followed by the page header. Then the actual move list came up. Hikaru searched for Shusaku's newest move and found it.

The two numbers didn't register right away even though he'd seen those numbers a million times. Maybe all the neurons in the section of his brain responsible for interpreting written data had all committed suicide. They looked like glyphs etched onto an ancient rune, some fey inscription left there as a prank by the same aliens who manufactured crop circles.

A line, a circle, a dash, a line, a circle.

Now he understood.

The board loaded, and in the middle of it sat a single white stone like an alabaster monolith. It looked like Polaris, the star which all the other stars orbited, the only point impervious to the torque of rotational symmetry. All the other stones seemed to have quailed away to the corners of the board to distance themselves from the new move. It was terrifying to look at.

10-10. Tengen. Shusaku had played at the center of the universe.

* * *

><p>*100:10:1 rule: States that on any message board, for every 1 active poster, there are 10 registered users, and 100 lurkers.<p> 


	8. Chapter 8

An older waiter with wiry hair, deep wrinkles, and an avuncular voice ushered Hikaru and Akari to a booth by the window. His name tag had "Shingo" written on it in red marker. He probably had a kid or two.

The big cardboard hamburger patty still stood guard by the doorway and urged onlookers to try the triple deluxe bear burger. The television fixed to the ceiling in the far corner was tuned to the 24 hour news channel. Two American soldiers died yesterday from a roadside explosive. A man was arrested for fixing boxing matches. Air Japan's stock plummeted by 2% after a mid-air collision over Siberia. How come most news is bad news?

Shingo seated them and left them with their menus. Hikaru had a slight headache, but everything else seemed just dandy. Thank you, Dr. Tanaka.

"Hikaru," said Akari, "you're not, like, on amphetamines or anything, are you?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Let's put it this way. You would probably lose a game of Jenga on the first turn."

"Oh, am I that jittery?"

"You didn't notice?"

"It's NetGo, Akari. NetGo."

"And what happened on NetGo?"

"Something exciting."

"That's just a tad cryptic."

"I'll tell you about what happened today."

"Fine."

"Remember that game against Shusaku going on? Well, he played on the tengen. And I wasn't there to witness it, but right after he played that, all of NetGo just went nuclear. _Fwooooom. _A thousand posts per minute. Chaos. A few people thought it was a bad move, but most users agreed that the center was probably a good spot to play on. I mean, no one would actually play there, but everyone knew somehow. You just don't question something like that."

"Well, I guess that qualifies as 'something exciting'," she said. "So what happens next?"

"Don't know. Lots of people wanted to keep attacking the corners, some wanted to contest the center. It's all a mess. I think that move did more to deplete NetGo's morale than it did to actually improve its position. Now that we know that Shusaku is capable of positional play, everyone's a lot more nervous. No one really knows what's going to happen next. The only thing that NetGo can agree on is that we're in for a hell of a game."

Shingo returned to the table with two glasses of ice water. He set them down and then whipped out a pen and pad like a gunslinger. "What'll it be folks?"

"Oh! Gimme a sec." Hikaru scrambled for the menu and began to thumb through the laminated pages. Akari simply said, "We'll start with the potato skins and spinach dip. Can you take our entrée orders once the appetizer is ready?"

"No problemo," said Shingo, scribbling the order onto the notepad. "Any drinks?"

"No, thank you," she said. "By the way, is Betty working today?"

Shingo pointed with his pen to a table two booths away. "She's a bit blue today, lass. Don't really know what happened. I think she needs someone to talk to." He winked and then disappeared into the kitchen.

The two of them peered gingerly at the hunched-over figure.

She sat, face angled downward, skating on a plate of French fries with a fork. The tines screeched against the ceramic and the sound it made spawned in the same sonic space as nails-on-a-chalkboard and styrofoam-rubbing-against-styrofoam. It didn't seem to bother her. She just continued to scrape the dish in a figure 8. She looked gloomy, as if invisible clothespins had puckered her face at all the wrong corners. Sunken eyes. If body language were sonant, hers would recite an elegy.

"Betty," called Akari.

She didn't look up right away. It was as if any audio input had to travel through a thick plasm she could interpret the signal. When she did peer up, the fluorescent light explored the spaces under her eyes and excavated a puffy redness. She tried to switch on a cheerful expression.

"Hey," she half-said, half-whispered, "the high school gal who's dating the Go pro. Am I right?"

"Oh, we're just friends, just friends." said Akari.

"Excuse me then, but you two did look like an item."

"Betty," she said, "is something the matter? What happened?"

She sighed and chewed on a French fry. "It's my grandmamma. She got sent to the hospital last night. I mean, it was on the horizon. We all saw it coming toward us for a long time, but when it actually happened, I didn't think it'd be so hard, see."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," said Akari. "What happened? You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I don't want to pry."

"No, no. It's fine. You're not prying. I just have trouble controlling my emotions sometimes. I bawl every time at the end of Steel Magnolias, even though I've seen it, like, a billion times, you know?"

Akari knew. "Just take it easy, Betty. A little at a time. Start from the beginning."

"If I started from the beginning, I'd be talking for an hour, and I only have five minutes of break time left."

"Why don't you ask your manager to give you the day off?" asked Hikaru. "I'm sure he'd understand."

"Like I said, it's a long story. So I'll give you the Sparknotes summary of it." She carried her plate over to their booth and scooted in next to Akari.

"My grandmamma has never had a strong body. She had to go on a strict diet and take a whole suite of medication since she was just a girl. Really ruins your social life when you can't drink alcohol, right? Anyway, she did everything the doctor told her, but they said that eventually, her kidneys would shut down. She had something called polycystic kidney disease. She was born with it. From the start, her death clock was ticking faster than everyone else's. They showed me pictures of a kidney from someone with that disease, and I got sick just looking at them. It was like someone shot a handful of pebbles into the kidney and then let it macerate in a jar of acid.

And my grandmamma had that. She had two of them inside her body. Oh God, Oh God, Oh God…"

"Slow down, Betty, you're stammering. Here, have some of my water."

"Thanks, hon." She took a sip and then methodically inhaled through her nostrils like in a yoga breathing demo. Her eyes were glassy with tearlets.

"Last night, I had the late shift. 6 PM until closing time at 2 AM. At about midnight, I get a call from my papa. Says, 'We found your grandmamma unconscious half an hour ago. We're at the hospital now. The doctors took it from there, but the rest is up to her.' And I could hear his voice cracking like crème brûlée. Then I starting crying – sorry I'm telling you this – I started crying in front of the customers. Oh, it was humiliating. I felt like a child. Boss told me to take off, so I did, and I took a taxi to the hospital.

And there she was, hooked up to a machine at a thousand different places. You could pull on any one cord and she would just expire. The doctor told me she was on dialysis. I didn't know what that meant, so I asked him. He said the kidney's job is to filter blood, but since her kidneys were no good, she needed a machine to do it for her. Then he showed me the pictures. Ugh. I always knew she had some kind of kidney condition, but I didn't think it would happen so suddenly."

She dabbed her eyes with Akari's napkin and downed another sip of water. "I'll get you some more napkins."

"Don't worry about it," said Akari. "Is there anything we can do for you?"

"Just listen."

"Okay."

"You asked me earlier why my manager didn't give me a day off. That's because I asked to work today. I want to make some extra money so I can at least buy her a nice going-away present."

"Betty that's—"

"She's on dialysis, but that's not gonna last long. A year, maybe two, says the doc. She needs a new kidney, but that's out of the question. Even if one of us was a match, it would cost a fortune." She shot a quick glance at the clock. "Look, my break time is up, but thanks for listening."

She offered them an appreciative smile as she got up, retied her apron and disappeared into the kitchen with her plate of half-chewed fries. Hikaru and Akari looked at each other for a moment, dumbfounded, and before they could start another conversation, Shingo emerged with their appetizer.

"Jeez, kids, that was impressive," he said as he set the dishes on the table. "I'm sorry if your appetizer's a bit cold. You'll have to forgive me. I was watching you guys from the back, and I didn't want to interrupt. It looked like that was really cathartic for Betty. She hadn't smiled all day until now. That really was Eighth Wonder of the World on her face just then."

"Man, her story took something out of me, though. I sort of lost my appetite," said Hikaru.

"If you still feel that way after you've tried the spinach dip, then I'll believe you. When I bring food home, this is what I take. And trust me, pal, I know the menu." Shingo served them the appetizer and then asked if they had decided on their main orders. Turkey club. Good choice. He departed to take another table's order. The sun limboed down at a shallower and shallower angle on the horizon. Laughter broke out over at the adjacent booth. The anchorman on TV had switched from talking about world news to stock markets. Google looked like it was going to be a big hit in the future. Incidentally, the spinach dip was pretty good.

"Akari," said Hikaru, "you okay? You've been silent for a while."

"I don't know. It's all sort of … depressing."

"Betty's grandma?"

She nodded.

"Want me to tell you more about NetGo, then?" asked Hikaru. "Maybe that'll distract you."

"Not really. NetGo … I don't know. I guess I'm just not as passionate about it as you are."

"Then let me tell you a story."

"A story? What kind of story?"

"You'll like it. Just listen."

"Okay."

"It starts with a boy. He's young, and he's brash. He's in sixth grade. He likes to play … Shogi. There's also a girl that's friends with him. They're both tiny little fries, and they adore each other. Sometimes, they hang out together after school and play Shogi with the other kids. Well, one day, someone enters this little boy's life."

"Who?"

"Just a stranger. He hangs out in the neighborhood. No one really sees or hears him except the little boy."

"So, like, a hobo?"

"Uhhh, well, not exactly, but I guess you could call him that. Anyway, this person likes to play Shogi, too. In fact, he's really good at it. So, the boy swings by where the guy lives every day and learns how to play Shogi from him."

"Isn't that kind of dangerous?"

"What's kind of dangerous?"

"A kid playing Shogi with a hobo every day. And where does this hobo live? In a cardboard box?"

"Akari, you're asking too many questions. It's just a story."

"I know, but some of those details are a bit ridiculous."

"Oh, you have no idea," Hikaru muttered.

"Huh?"

"Nothing. Just keep listening."

"Fine."

"So, the boy spends more and more time learning to play Shogi with the … hobo. He gets really into it, spends less and less time with the girl. She sort of just grays into the crowd. He barely plays with her anymore."

"Tragic!"

"One day, the Shogi master just ups and disappears. No one knows where he went. After all, no one really cared about him except the boy. Maybe he traveled to a new place, maybe he wanted to teach someone else how to play Shogi, maybe he just evaporated into thin air.

The boy was sad. He'd taken his presence for granted. He cried for a long, long time. He still sees him in his dreams, but he never speaks and never moves. And now he was gone."

"Hmph. Good riddance. I didn't like the hobo anyway."

"Okay, let's stop calling him 'hobo'. Call him 'Shogi master' instead."

"If you insist."

"Yeah, so where was I? Oh, yes. Well, there was a silver lining when the Shogi master vanished. The boy began to see the girl again. He realized he'd been so preoccupied with him that he forgot all about her, or at least most of her."

Hikaru crunched on a potato skin. The anchorman was now talking about a heat wave in Kagoshima.

"And what happened to the girl?" asked Akari.

"She grew up. She was by his side the whole time, and he never noticed. The boy was blind."

"And this story…. Does it have a happy ending? Do the boy and girl end up together?"

As Hikaru opened his mouth to reply, a hearty call interrupted him.

"Two turkey clubs for you two kids!" Shingo brought the two sandwiches on a tray and laid them down in front of them. "Anything else, I can getcha?"

"Ah, nothing for now. Thanks," said Akari, a tinge of disappointment in her voice.

"Ok, then." Shingo smiled his waiterly smile and then disappeared. They were alone again.

Hikaru never understood confessions. Those characters in all those movies and books and TV shows made it look so easy. All you had to do was utter a few words. Easier than frying an egg. His rational mind knew it wasn't a big deal. You tell her you like her, and she either says yes or she says no, and if she says no, what's the worst that could happen? But his emotional mind was afraid. The fear of rejection hovered over him like a cartoon thunderhead.

So, what should I say?

A thousand reams of clichés and quotes about love rolled through his brain in flash frames. Letters sallied forth from the yellow-tinted pages and mingled together in an infinite alphabet soup. Some of them linked to form words, some of those words formed sentences.

_Love is patient, love is kind. Love is blue. Love is blind._

And here was a boy in love with a girl but didn't want to tell her. A grown-up could do it, thought Hikaru. But a child can't. I can't. Not now.

"So what happened at the end of the story?" asked Akari. Rays from the retiring sun winked off of her iris.

Hikaru flinched. "I-I don't know. The person who told me never got to finish."

"Oh."

So, they talked about homework instead. And as they ate, they talked about the weather and how it's getting hotter and what they would do when school started and they talked about their teachers and gossip and rumors and pop culture and cool shows on TV and upcoming movies and the latest manga and their favorite animes entering pre-production and all the while the anchorman on TV punctuated their conversation with his baritone voice skirting the latest scoops on business and money and world news and politics and sports and entertainment and technology and an exclusive report on how alarm clocks might cause cancer ("This is not too farfetched," said the voice-over. "After all, even oxygen can cause cancer.") and outside in the city the sky blushed a ruddy red and a few cars switched on their lights and the windows in apartment facades lit up like checkerboards and streetlights flickered to life and it was too dark to see a hockey puck on asphalt but bright enough to see a baseball on grass and Tokyo entered the time of day when it was socially acceptable to greet someone with either "Konnichiwa" or "Konbanwa". They did not talk about the boy and the girl.

When they were done eating, Shingo brought them dessert.

"And this is for you kids." He placed two bowls of vanilla ice cream in front of them. "Betty wanted to thank you, but she's a bit shy about it. Wanted me to do it instead. Guess she's not shy about bossing poor ol' Shingo around, eh?"

"Oh! Give her our thanks," said Akari. "And also our well wishes for her grandmother."

"Right, that reminds me," said Shingo. "There's one more thing I wanted to tell you. I don't know if she told you, but her granny's really crazy about Go. She plays all the time at the salon across from the big mall. Or she used to. That's the thing. Betty told me that her granny feels quite lonely at the hospital and that she hasn't found anyone to play with her. Betty also mentioned the Go pro she served the other day with the yellow and black hair, so I recognized you right away as you walked in.

Anyway, I'm not requesting you do this or anything, but I think it'd really make Betty happy if you played a few rounds of Go with her grandmother. Of course, you'll have to ask Betty about that, but I just wanted to give you guys the heads up."

"It certainly sounds interesting," said Hikaru, "but the world of Go is spinning very, very fast. There's lot of stuff going on, and I don't know if I can—"

"Hikaru!" said Akari. "I think you should ask Betty about it! It would be so easy for you to play a few games."

"No, no, no," said Shingo, waving his hand defensively. "Please don't worry about it. It was kind of an afterthought anyway. No big deal. Just enjoy the ice cream. It's good. I promise. It's made fresh every morning."

Hikaru tried it and as the delicious ice cream melted in his mouth, he silently scolded himself for missing his opportunity to tell Akari how he felt about her. Later, she would construe his odd behavior to mean that for some inhuman reason, he did not like vanilla ice cream.


	9. Chapter 9

The following threads appeared on NetGo on Sunday.

**Thread title: 10-10. Good move or bad move?**

**Divine [I] [8-4-02, 1:04:23 PM]: **Alright, so we all know what happened, I'm sure. Shusaku played on the tengen. So, what does this mean? Is it a good move or a bad move? It seems like everyone has their own opinion on the matter. I made this thread so we can put all that discussion in one place.

**Soldat [8-4-02, 1:05:17 PM]: **great move i think

**Red [8-4-02, 1:05:56 PM]: **bad move.

**Kiss [8-4-02, 1:06:33 PM]: **If you ask me, I think the tengen was a good move. Before move 8, I could count on one hand how many players seriously believed that 10-10 was a good move. One of those was Marcus, who is a skilled amateur from the United States. He argued that the tengen was the most influential point on the board, and I read some of his posts, and I tend to agree with him.

There are also a lot of people now who say we should've played on the center. These people need to chill out. While I think 10-10 was a good move for _Shusaku_, I don't think it would've been a good move for _us._ Even if we played in the center, we wouldn't have known where to go from there. It's a lot safer for us to play at the corners like in a normal game. Shusaku, however, is different. He can see deep enough to judge that the center is an essential outpost to occupy. In fact, he's probably already developed a move tree out to a ridiculous depth. We're not capable of anything remotely close to that kind of depth searching. So, if I had to play this game all over again, I still wouldn't play at the center.

**Koji [PRO-9] [8-4-02, 1:07:01 PM]: **Let me assure you that playing on the tengen was _not _the best move. If an opponent played there this early in the match, I would just kick back, relax, and play it slow and steady. Since Shusaku wasted a precious opening move on the center, we now can now claim an extra gob of territory around the edges. This puts up maybe half a dozen moku at the endgame, which is not insignificant.

I think our plan of action would be to first secure the corner that's under attack and then take the offensive. Bring the fight to Shusaku. Right now, that stone in the center has almost zero influence on the real battles taking place. Sure, I'll admit that it makes me a _little _nervous, but I think that that comes from the surprise factor of that move. All in all, I think we're in a good shape.

**Kami [8-4-02, 1:07:53 PM]: **Bad move. It's too early to play in the center. It's like putting down a spike strip a mile down the road for everyone to see. We can avoid it if we play carefully.

**JamesD [8-4-02, 1:08:24 PM]: **Good move. It's already split NetGo into two factions. The sheer psychological impact of the move is immense. In fact, it looks like a move Koji would play.

**Marcus [A] [8-4-02, 1:09:45 PM]: **Koji: You really need to pull your head out of your ass.

Yes, I'm sure that if your _human _opponent played at the tengen, you could count that as a wasted move, but Shusaku is not human. What works against human players does _not _necessarily work against computer players. We've seen this in chess, we've seen this in reverse, we've seen this in video games, for Christ's sake!

Furthermore, it really doesn't matter if you think move 8 was a good move or a bad move. The fact of the matter is that now we know that Shusaku can play much further ahead that we all thought possible. I said before that I believe it could search at around depth 20. I was mistaken. No way any engine could deem the tengen as a good move at that depth. Usually, tengen is played in the mid to late game. Shusaku must function at a deeper level. Maybe depth 100.

Now that we know we're not playing against your local Go club president, what can we do? Well, this move is a call to arms. We need to play better, stronger moves, and the only way to do that is to restore the democracy that was on NetGo at the beginning. We can't have Koji do the thinking for everyone. Everyone needs to analyze moves and report them on NetGo.

**Sora [8-4-02, 1:09:55 PM]: **Koji's got a good plan as usual. Let's follow it.

**Kita [I] [8-4-02, 1:10:28 PM]: **Marcus: "Better, stronger moves". Yeah, okay, moron.

**Hikaru [PRO-1] [8-4-02, 1:10:42 PM]: **Marcus: well said.

**Koji [PRO-9] [8-4-02, 1:11:37 PM]: **Marcus: What you just said hurts me deeply. Not.

No one knows who you are or what you're trying to do. For all we know, you might have been hired by those guys working on Shusaku to sabotage the game for us. After all, you're from the United States.

While I agree that we need more people to analyze the moves, some of us have to go to work or school. Since, I play Go for a living, I can analyze the move deeper and more thoroughly than 99.9% of the users on this board. And you can ask anyone in this thread: They trust my analysis.

**[Thread continues] **

…

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**Thread title: The State of NetGo**

**Zarathustra [8-4-02, 7:01:58 PM]: **Hi, all. You may know me from some of the threads I've posted. I'm not a great Go player, but _have _spent lots of time on NetGo, and I'd like to lay out some of the obvious problems we're dealing with. At the moment, a few things are apparent:

1) Judging from the poll results, although we've been picking good moves so far, it looks like many of the users are real amateurs (i.e. people who suck at Go). In every poll so far, a consistent 2-3% of people have been voting for demonstrably terrible moves.

2) We have not been cooperating with each other. A great majority of the threads here have been nasty and confrontational in nature. Even on the front page _right now_, I can count 34/50 threads that are offensive, counterproductive, or off-topic. We need to allocate more energy to analysis and less to argument.

3) NetGo has a serious issue with profanity. Hopefully we can set censor out some of the more – ahem – colorful words out there.

My fear is that if we don't get these problems straightened out, they will metastasize and wreck any chance we have at a cooperative effort against Shusaku.

**Trollhunter [8-4-02, 7:02:31 PM]: **Zarathustra: lol faggot (￣ー￣)

**[Thread continues] **

…

…

**Thread title: IMPORTANT: Grand strategy.**

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…

**Akita [8-4-02, 6:51:05 AM]: **Hey, I'm an amateur Go player in Japan. Could someone tell me how the previous move (tengen) affects our grand strategy? ﾐ (*･ω･)v Thanks! 彡

**Doraemon [8-4-02, 6:52:31 AM]: **Akita: a pro will prolly giv u a better explination, but i think shusaku is alot better than we thot.

**Strawberry [8-4-02, 6:52:59 AM]: **Akita: A lot of people believed that the tengen was the best spot to play on. Shusaku confirmed our suspicions. How does this change our strategy? That's being decided right now in the MOVE 9 thread.

**Arigatou [8-4-02, 6:53:33 AM]: **Akita: probably doesn't.

**Zelda [PRO-2] [8-4-02, 6:55:59 AM]: **Akita: To fully understand the implications of the move, you need to know a bit of history.

In the 1930's, there was a brief fad (if you will) in the fuseki by starting out at the center. The rationale was that the tengen was probably the most influential and important spot on the Go board, so you should start by playing there. Most people still believe this. Out of all 361 points on a 19x19 Go board, the center is widely held to be the most important. In other words, if God played Go, He would start at the tengen.

The reason why we don't play at the center in the early game is because the variations are too deep for us to comprehend. It's a lot easier for us to see how corner play can secure territory right away, so we play there.

Since Shusaku is playing via an algorithm, it must have done some deep calculations to arrive at the tengen as a favored move. In other words, Shusaku is a much better player than we initially thought possible. A lot of users have been claiming that the scientists rigged Shusaku to play at the center to throw us off. That's possible, but not probable. I really do believe Shusaku found that move with a depth search.

How does this change our strategy? Right now, we're at a fork in the road. We can either keep playing for the corner or contest the center. If it were up to me, I would fight for the center.

**[Thread continues] **

…

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**Thread title: MOVE 9**

**Hermes [PRO-3] [8-4-02, 12:23:28 AM]: **This is the discussion for our fifth move, which is the ninth move overall. Our 24 hours officially started at 12:00:00 AM, Sunday the 4th, which means we must make a move by 11:59:59 PM, Sunday the 4th.

**Koji [PRO-9] [8-4-02, 12:23:59 AM]: **Like the previous three of my posts, this is a copy and paste.

So, as we all know, Shusaku played on the tengen last round. This move seems to have bent a lot of people out of shape. I assure you that this move is a lot less serious than it looks. For the past few moves, we've been engaging Shusaku on the bottom right corner, each side taking potshots at each other but none of us really committing to a real assault. And it seems that in the midst of the fight, Shusaku wandered off to a random patch of territory a thousand miles from the action and planted a flag there.

We need to punish him here.

Most of the better players here know this: If you make a blunder like this in a pro match, you'll be fighting uphill for the rest of the match. With this move, we've gained a tempo. In other words, Shusaku has transferred the initiative to us. And what do you do when you've got the initiative? You attack. That's what.

I vote for 16-5 to secure bottom right corner. Shusaku has no idea what he's gotten himself into. With this move, we'll have kicked white out of that territory and gained a dozen moku or more.

Also note that since I have a title match with the Meijin over the next week, I won't be on as much, but I will still posts analyses.

**Marcus [A] [8-4-02, 12:24:01 AM]: **This is a copy and paste in the tradition of Koji Mizutani.

He's probably recommended or going to recommend an attacking move that reinforces our forces in the top right corner. Please, please, please realize that he's totally ignoring Shusaku's tengen move. We cannot afford to do this. Many of you may not realize this, but how we respond to Shusaku's last move with influence the rest of the game in a deep way. In other words, we might very well be walking into a losing position in approximately twelve hours if we don't address the tengen move _right now_.

So, I beg you, NetGo. Please fight for the center. Any spot around 10-10 will do. I particularly like 12-10. If we keep concentrating on the corner, we're going to lose the fight in the middle. I have a terrible feeling that Shusaku's going to reinforce the center on his next move. Let me phrase that another way:

_Shusaku will probably reinforce the center on his next move._

If that happens, then it'll be extremely hard for us to recover. Contesting a two stone toehold will be almost impossible against a player like Shusaku. We have a chance if we attack on this move and this move only.

**Hikaru [PRO-1] [8-4-02, 12:24:05 AM]: **We cannot ignore Shusaku's move at the tengen. We have to play for the center.

**Princess [8-4-02, 12:24:49 AM]: **I trust Koji's judgment. Let's vote for 16-5.

**Swordfish [8-4-02, 12:24:56 AM]: **Twelve moku sounds like a lot. I vote for the corner.

**Kita [I] [8-4-02, 12:25:14 AM]: **Well, guys, I'm sorry to tell you that there's only one game in my database that have followed this game tree, and it was an amateur game in 1932 in Germany. That is not going to help us very much. For now, we should probably play for the corner.

**Akari [8-4-02, 12:25:28 AM]: **Yes. I agree with Hikaru. We should play for the center! (=^・ｪ･^=)

**YukiG [8-4-02, 12:25:43 AM]: **corner lets go for the corner 16-5

**Jun [I] [8-4-02, 12:26:00 AM]: **The problem with playing for the center is that we have no idea what we're fighting for. There's a popular phrase in English that goes: "You're damned if you, and you're damned if you don't."

We're damned if we do fight for the center because Shusaku can just easily outplay us in such an empty battlefield. Go engines just do better in the open. This is all well-known.

And we're damned if we don't play for the center because the center _is _the most important area of the board. If Shusaku controls the center, we're probably screwed.

It's a simple problem: Shusaku can read moves too deeply. We didn't know what the hell we were up against.

Hell, I think we should resign.

**Mango [8-4-02, 12:26:17 AM]: **Marcus: Why do you think Shusaku will reinforce the center?

**Yossarian [8-4-02, 12:26:30 AM]: **Marcus: You're a very dedicated troll, aren't you?

**Thanatos [8-4-02, 12:26:44 AM]: **Koji: I like your style.

**Marcus [A] [8-4-02, 12:27:01 AM]: **Mango: I concede that my hunch is all that I'm going on. However, before this move, it was my hunch that the tengen was a good spot to play on before, and look what happened! We now know that the center is the most important area of the board even early on, so Shusaku will probably play there again to secure his holdings.

I probably won't sway the vote enough for it to win, but let me say this: If Shusaku _does _play for the center on the next move (and we don't fight him for it this round), we might just be screwed.

**[Thread continues] **

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…

**Thread title: On Koji Mizutani…**

**Daedalus [8-4-02, 7:13:33 PM]: **I'm sure a majority of you have noticed the alarming influence that Koji has exerted over NetGo over the past few moves. So far, every move we have made except the first one (which wasn't a vital one anyway), has been proposed by Koji. Until the most recent move, no one really seemed to care because his recommendations were sound. However, we're now at a critical juncture in the game, and it seems that his presence is taking over the board.

It's as if a benevolent dictator in charge of a country suddenly raised his hand against his own people. The problem is that he had too much power in the first place.

Many people have mentioned the importance of democracy in this match, and I want to reiterate their message. By maintaining its neutrality and open-mindedness, we can remain flexible in our strategy. Too many times have I lost games and afterward said to myself, "If only I didn't play so defensively" or "If only I didn't attack so bullheadedly". We can avoid this. We can mold ourselves to the situation perfectly if we all cooperate. If Koji continues to orchestrate our strategic approaches, it's going to end up as Koji vs. Shusaku.

Therefore, I propose the following changes:

1) Impose a daily post limit on all users.

2) Abolish official "MOVE X" threads.

3) Remove the status tags.

4) Have an official, trusted moderator analyze and discuss all the possible moves we could play.

5) Don't show the voting progress. Reveal them after our 24 hours is up.

Feedback is welcome.

**Kensou [8-4-02, 7:14:43 PM]: **Daedalus: You have good intentions, but that would never work. No matter which way you slice it, you can't restrain NetGo. It's just too big and bulky to be controlled with a simple wave of the admin's wand. We've got over 65,000 users from all over the world. No way could anyone take in all of their ideas for every move.

**Ringer [8-4-02, 7:14:53 PM]: **not very thought out

**Chi [8-4-02, 7:15:07 PM]: **How about we fix the bigger problems first? You know, like all the trolling and flame wars out there.

**Ami [8-4-02, 7:15:21 PM]: **Daedalus: The best you can do is a representative democracy. No one's going to take an amateur's opinion over a pro's. You need people with tags to run the show for the populace (i.e. user base), who then vote for the best one. No large government in history was ever a pure direct democracy. They all had delegates or leaders.

So, I do agree with your fourth point. We should have a qualified commentator discuss our potential moves. I think the natural choice would be the Meijin. But since he hasn't posted on NetGo, I support his son AKA Hermes.

**Elephant [8-4-02, 7:15:58 PM]: **Yep. Koji's taking control of the game, and I don't like it. You have my full support.

**Mochiko [8-4-02, 7:16:09 PM]: **There's nothing wrong with Koji's moves. Don't fix what ain't broken, pal.

**DarkAngel85 [8-4-02, 7:16:11 PM]: **I think the daily post limit is a really good idea.

**Cyan [I] [8-4-02, 7:16:44 PM]: **Chi has a good point. Even if we eliminate Koji's influence (and that's a big if), we still wouldn't be able to work together. It would be like trying to get a stadium full of screaming 5-year old toddlers to hush all at once.

**Yugi [8-4-02, 7:17:16 PM]: **We're stuck in a spectrum. On one end, you've got a pure democracy where everyone's opinion is equally important and on the other end, you have a fascist state controlled by a single despot. Of course, the problem is that in the democracy, a beginner's opinion is taken as seriously as the Meijin's. Not good. And on in the fascist state, even if the leader is a great at Go, he won't be able to adapt as easily. He's trapped by his own style and playing history.

The trick is to find the happy medium. I don't think we should remove the tags, but I do think a daily post limit is a good idea. However, that blatantly flies in the face of the rules of NetGo. Maybe we should just get the Meijin to analyze the moves for us – but wait, that leads to the same kind of dictatorship we're trying to avoid! Argh!

**[Thread continues] **

…

…

At midnight, the votes were tallied, and 16-5, the corner move won by a comfortable margin.


	10. Chapter 10

He was dreaming again.

The statuesque Sai. Utterly stoic. Like the cast of a man ruminating over his own impending mortality before an apocalyptic shower of ashes envelops him. Like a bodhisattva mummified in his final meditation. Like an insect encased and preserved forever in a droplet of amber to be displayed in a museum a hundred million years later.

Hikaru was running. He couldn't tell whether Sai was closer or farther from him than last time. It didn't matter. It was all a stage show anyhow. He'd experienced this dream enough times to realize it was a dream. It ended the same way in every iteration. He would run and run and run and he would feel like collapsing but never completely use up all of his energy. And all the while, he would shout but never hear himself shout.

But something _was _different this time. Hikaru was sure of it. Something was definitely off. A warm, sizzling paranoia sprouted through him from his gut to his throat when he pinpointed what exactly had changed. Sai had moved. It was only a microscopic twitch, but Hikaru just knew. Call it intuition. Maybe he'd tilted his head or curled his finger or pursed his lips. Whatever it was, the statue was alive. Hikaru could not recall this happening before, but in this netherworld devoid of memory or logic, he could not be sure.

Hikaru redoubled his efforts. His muscles jolted to life with renewed energy, and his legs swung with impetuous momentum. He smashed through the pitchy air like a locomotive, and when he looked up, he realized that Sai had gotten closer to him. He could see the whites of his eyes. He was making progress.

"SAI!"

And Sai lifted his head as if waking from an immemorial hibernation and looked at him. Hikaru, startled, paused in his tracks. His body boiled with fatigue at having to shift gears so abruptly. He heaved huge gulps of air and massaged a cramp on his calf.

Sai, still expressionless, pulled out a folded fan from his robes. A purple tassel dangled from its end. It looked like the one Akari had given him. Sai pointed the fan downward and when Hikaru looked there, he discovered a Go board he'd somehow failed to notice the entire time. Dreams are weird like that. The whole board radiated a golden aura except for one corner, which was tarnished from a splash of congealed blood. A few stones lay scattered on the grid in what looked like the beginning of an important Go match. When he looked back up, Sai was sitting across the board from him, kneeling and in ready position to play a game against him.

But he only tracked his fan across the surface. His gaze was focused on his target, and he maintained a look of perfect disinterest. Hikaru watched his lips, hoping they would part and that he would say something to him, but they never relented. When his hand had stopped moving, he looked up at Hikaru and wordlessly invited him to inspect the board. The fan pointed to an empty spot near the center of the Go board. It was diagonal from two white stones that were already there. Although Hikaru couldn't calculate the coordinates of that spot (maybe the part of the brain he used for counting is separate from the part of the brain he used for dreaming), he instantly recognized the pattern of the stones. That's how Sai had taught him to attack one-point jump configurations (two stones one space apart).

"Sai, why are you showing me this? I don't understand."

He didn't answer.

"Why can't you say anything? Is this your idea of the silent treatment? Are you mad at me for not saying goodbye? Well, I'm sorry!"

He still didn't answer. He only pointed at that spot just below the two white stones for what seemed like a geological stretch of time. The image, the pattern, the stones branded themselves into Hikaru's brain. He strained his gaze on the board until an ineluctable urge to blink overtook him.

Hikaru closed his eyes and when he rolled them open again, he found himself in his own bed.

It was Tuesday. It was afternoon. Toddlers and teens alike were out playing. Summer vacation would end in little less than a month, and although most of the grade school students shuddered at the thought, the rest of Tokyo didn't really much care. The city occupied itself with its daily routine and remained mostly apathetic to the trivial plights of the children.

A news story about the Shusaku challenge had aired on CNN in the United States, and the mythology of the perfect Go playing engine spread throughout the country like wildfire. It was a two minute segment that broadcasted on the CNN news channel at primetime on Sunday. The anchorman described the nature of the challenge, the creation of Shusaku, and how the world was "playing Go against God". After the first news network had disseminated the story, several more major news networks contacted their agents in Boston and Tokyo to interview the creator of the machine and the representative of NetGo respectively. The interviews were transcribed, processed, and packaged into formal reports. Three major outlets simultaneously aired their stories on Monday afternoon, and two more followed at night on the same day. The renewed interest in Shusaku also sparked dozens of major and hundreds of minor news companies in Europe and Asia to prepare their own secondhand summaries of the essential details regarding the one million dollar challenge. This had the effect of swelling NetGo's membership from 65,000 on Sunday to over 250,000 on Monday. By the end of the week, the number of users would reach 1,000,000.

On Tuesday, Hikaru's cold had relapsed with a fury. A persistent and phlegmy cough plagued him all day, and the cold medicine he'd taken had seemingly no effect on it. Dr. Tanaka was a one-trick pony after all. He felt tired, as if the whole-body fatigue he'd experienced in his dream had actualized into reality. By evening, Hikaru felt a little better. At least enough to visit the Internet café and check up on NetGo. When Hikaru logged in, he found the message board overrun with threads created by rank amateurs who wanted to take part in the historic event. Most of them were either used to introduce the topic creator, ask about the significance of the previous moves, or speculate wildly on future moves. He scanned a stickied topic to find out why the user base had quadrupled.

…

…

**Thread title: IMPORTANT: NetGo updates. **

**NetGo_Lee [ADMIN] [8-5-02, 9:55:42 PM]:** A lot of new users have registered with us in the past few days. To those of you who don't know why, it's because the Shusaku challenge has found its way onto the airwaves of many major news networks in the West. You can find the details in another thread. This one concerns some major updates that we have enacted to simultaneously address the increasing number users and the decreasing quality of threads on the forums:

First, we've created a new subforum where anyone can visit but only tagged users can post.

Second, we've moved the official "MOVE #" thread to this new subforum. Furthermore, a link to this thread now appears on the front page of NetGo, so that it's the first thing new visitors to the site will notice.

Third, as a compromise to the non-tagged users, we've decided to display a duplicate "MOVE #" thread, in which anyone could post, to its official counterpart on the front page.

Fourth, we've imposed a 48 hour period onto new users during which they cannot post.

Fifth, we've established a daily posting limit set at one topic and ten posts. Tagged users are exempt from this rule.

Sixth, we've hired a new batch of moderators to maintain the forums.

I'm sure some of you will not like these changes, so feel free to make suggestions or lodge complaints in the moderator drop box.

Thanks a lot.

…

…

Hikaru decided he liked the new changes and then went to check the updated move list. He clicked through the links and waited with muted anticipation for the new information to display. He promised himself that he wouldn't feel startled if Shusaku played for the center. After a few seconds, the moves loaded. We had played for the corner; he knew that already. But Shusaku's new maneuver, despite Hikaru's determination not to react with surprise, surprised him anyway. A muffled groan escaped him when he saw the updated board. Shusaku had reinforced the center.

White now commanded two outposts in the center but little territory otherwise. It was clear now: Shusaku was playing for influence.

Hikaru shrugged and visited the main public subforum. Since most of the new users had registered within the past 48 hours, they could not post, but they were already there lurking. The site reported 12,931 active posters, 64,852 silent posters, and 303,844 guests. Soon, they would flood the message board in an unstoppable human wave attack. He just hoped that the NetGo servers would be able to support all of them.

Hikaru entered the new "Tagged Subforum" and found the discussion there much tamer and relevant to the issues at hand, namely what to play next. According to the board statistics, a little under two thousand users possessed tags, so it wasn't surprising that the incipient subforum boasted an average of one post every ten minutes as opposed to the five posts per second on the public message board.

These were three of the top threads on the first page.

…

…

**Thread title: IMPORTANT: Tagged Subforum Introduction**

**Hermes [PRO-3] [8-5-02, 4:11:52 AM]: **This is the new subforum on NetGo created in response to the massive influx of new users during these past few days.

This forum is meant as sort of an exhibition. That is, all users can and are encouraged to view the threads here, but only users with tags (Insei, skilled amateurs, and pros) can actually post in them. As a result, I expect all tagged users to behave with decorum and civility. That means absolutely zero trolling, profanity, or off-topic discussion (although I'll be a little more lenient on this one). I really don't want to ban any tagged users, but if someone repeatedly disrupts this forum with inappropriate posts, I _will _take action.

Anyway, the rules of this forum aren't really different at all from those of the public subforum. Just take note that our "MOVE #" threads will be featured on the front page of NetGo, so let's set a good example. Oh, as most of you have already notice, I'm not in charge of the "MOVE #" topics anymore. One of our users, Marcus, has programmed an automatic posting program to make those threads for us every other day right on the stroke of midnight. Its username is "ThreadBot", so keep that in mind!

Happy posting.

…

…

**Thread title: The prize.**

**Jun [I] [8-5-02, 8:44:30 AM]: **We've been discussing a lot of strategy so far, but no one's really talked about the prize we get for beating Shusaku. I'm talking about the million dollars. That's roughly 100 million yen, and make no mistake: that'll buy you a lot of Go books. So if we do win, how would all that money get split up? Anyone?

**Ochi [PRO-5] [8-5-02, 8:59:12 AM]: **Good question. I'm curious about this myself.

**Zui [A] [8-5-02, 9:21:18 AM]: **Ah! I totally forgot about that! That would be awesome if everyone got an equal share. Four bucks a user. Just send in your address and proof of participation.

Wouldn't that be funny?

**Aurora [PRO-8] [8-5-02, 9:49:23 AM]: **My guess is that a good portion of it would go to NetGo for hosting the challenge.

**Shuya [PRO-1] [8-5-02, 9:52:44 AM]: **I heard from somewhere that there really isn't a million dollars. It's just a trick to get more attention. The scientists offered a monetary prize with the knowledge that they couldn't possibly lose. They have a lot of confidence in Shusaku.

**Neko [I] [8-5-02, 10:07:37 AM]: **Shuya: Who'd you hear it from?

**Shuya [PRO-1] [8-5-02, 10:11:00 AM]: **Neko: It was from a thread on the main forum a few days ago. I can't seem to find it anymore.

**Hermes [PRO-3] [8-5-02, 10:29:59 AM]: **I can answer this question. I should've made this clearer from the beginning anyway.

First, I can assure you that the million dollars is real. Dr. Samuel Peoples, the guy behind Shusaku, runs a lab that's backed by a major corporation called ThinkingMachines (or TM for short). Although TM is a huge company, no one really knows much about it besides the fact that it's funded lots of computer science and AI projects in the past decade. I've read some of the articles about them. Apparently, TM has posed similar challenges in chess, checkers, and backgammon and offered ten-thousand dollar prizes instead of the million they staked here. In fact, they've lost out on two matches so far, and they've paid up both times.

Now, onto the actual money:

Since this challenge isn't government sponsored, it won't be taxed, so the prize will remain intact at a million dollars.

Indeed, a good portion of the money would go to NetGo for hosting the challenge. It's sort of like the Olympics and how the city that's hosting the games gets lots of money to build new facilities. However, it's also a big risk for NetGo because if we lose, they get no money and they'll have spent a lot of their budget on new servers and staffing. But I guess they calculated that it would be worth it because they would get a lot more traffic and make more from advertising.

Another portion of the money would go to the International Go Federation. There's a lot of bureaucracy behind that, and I'm not sure exactly how it works, so I'm not even going to try to explain it.

The remaining part of the money would go to a charity or organization decided by the representative for the winning side (i.e. my father) as per the wishes of Dr. Peoples. Since it's only a "wish", my father technically could do whatever he wants with it, but he's already told me that he'll donate it. To which organization, he's not sure.

Jun: I hope that answered your question.

**[Thread continues]**

…

…

**Thread title: TAGGED SUBFORUM: MOVE 11**

**ThreadBot [8-5-02, 12:00:00 AM]:** This is the official thread for the 11th move of this game, and our 6th move overall. From the time of this post, we will have 24 hours to discuss our next potential move. Our time will end on Wednesday, August 6, 2002 at midnight.

Please keep this topic on track and civil. Thank you.

**Koji [PRO-9] [8-5-02, 12:11:49 AM]: **Since I'm speaking to a more informed crowd, I'll keep my explanations short.

I think we should keep attacking the corner. I'm sure that just about all of you know that if you place two stones in the center this early in the game, it's more or less a death sentence. You might as well resign. This is why I feel confident that a corner move will seal Shusaku's fate. Since we've won the initial corner fight, I suggest we attack the other corner. Where exactly, I don't really have time to discuss, since I have to get a good amount of rest for my match against the Meijin tomorrow. There are many ways to approach this, and I'm sure you guys will find the right move.

Many have also stated (or overstated) that my influence on the moves is too great. Therefore, I'll leave only the skeleton attacking idea here: attack the corner. I won't get into any more specifics.

**ZhugeLiang [PRO-4] [8-5-02, 12:28:33 AM]: **I agree. I would also attack the corner, but I'm still nervous about the center.

**Keiichi [PRO-7] [8-5-02, 12:41:24 AM]: **I think we're being too brash here again. We have 24 hours. Why don't we use some of that time to thinking about attacking the center? I mean, yes: corner play is the safest and probably the wisest move, but open-mindedness is the key to victory.

I don't think placing a stone at the center is a particularly horrible move. Shusaku's played at 10-10 and 12-10 already, so why not play at 11-9 or 11-11 to see what happens?

**Kita [I] [8-5-02, 12:55:51 AM]: **As usual, Koji has figured out the best path of play. By the way, Koji, how did your first game with the Meijin go yesterday?

**Zelda [PRO-2] [8-5-02, 1:01:22 AM]: **Kita: Let's keep on topic. If you must know, he won his first game.

Anyway, I agree with Keiichi. If we play at 11-9 or 11-11, it'll force Shusaku to connect his two stones, so we don't end up losing a tempo. I think this is the best move.

**Eden [A] [8-5-02, 1:22:09 AM]: **I'm an amateur, and even I can see that a corner move is the best line of play.

**Erik [PRO-4] [8-5-02, 1:39:44 AM]: **Corner play is the best. I recommend 3-14. Standard early game attacking fueski.

**Cloud [I] [8-5-02, 1:42:30 AM]: **Erik: Sure, why not?

**Mamo [PRO-5] [8-5-02, 1:58:17 AM]: **3-14 is a fine move. I'll vote for that.

**Mencius [A] [8-5-02, 2:10:42 AM]: **I don't like 3-14, but it doesn't look like that really matters.

**YXF [PRO-1] [8-5-02, 2:24:20 AM]: **Meh, I usually play at 5-14 in a situation like this, but 3-14 is also fine.

**[Thread continues]**

…

…

He skimmed the "MOVE 11" thread from the beginning. It contained over 300 posts, and most of the users supported the idea of attacking the corner. In stark contrast to the public forums, the people who opposed Koji's idea weren't outright ridiculed. Some of Koji's supporters even cobbled together intelligent replies to their concerns, but the 3-14 move held sway. It certainly wasn't a bad spot to play, but it just didn't sit right with him. Something felt off. Maybe it was the damned cough that was clouding his judgment. Hikaru had been wheezing and hacking for the past thirty minutes. Drinking water barely alleviated the symptoms, and taking more cold medicine didn't help either.

Hikaru loaded the Go board on the front page, and while studying the stones in the center, a strange wave of déjà vu overwhelmed him. This exact scenario seemed to have occurred already. He'd been sitting in this same posture staring at the same screen at the same angle with the same train of thought passing through his head. And then the move came to him. 11-9. Place a black stone there to contest the center, threaten to bifurcate the white outposts. That was it. It was the perfect star to complete the constellation. He _just knew. _The Hand of God had graced him.

And then in a flash of total recall, it all became clear where this mysterious afflatus had originated. It was the dream he had last night. Fuzzy mental images gradually developed before his eyes; him running, Sai moving, a Go board appearing, a fan pointing, the two white stones in the center. It was the same configuration. Sai had told him where to play next. He had told him to vie for the center.

Hikaru glanced at the clock. It was half past seven. He had four and a half hours to convince a quarter million users to switch their votes. Right now, 3-14 was heading for a landslide victory at 77.42% of the votes, while 11-9 lay at third place with 4.91% of the votes.

Animated by divine inspiration, Hikaru typed out a rushed analysis supporting the 11-9 move. His fingers flew, and he started to sweat as he continued to punch the keys without rest. He quickly posted his explanation in the official "MOVE 11" thread and waited. Minutes passed without a reply. His heart ricocheted in his chest like a SuperBall. After a while, someone respectfully informed him that everything he offered had already been said and refuted in previous posts. Another user agreed with him in a post soon after. Hikaru responded with a desperate plea for them to reconsider, but he was met with indifference. They'd made up their minds. No use trying to change them.

Hikaru slammed his body against his chair in defeat and pounded on the desk with his fist, unaware that some of the patrons were looking at him. He never thought it would be like this. He never thought the Hand of God would lose its power so readily. To know the perfect move and not be able to make it. What a sham! He felt sapped. Sai had told him, _ordained_ him to play at 11-9, but he'd failed him, disappointed him. It was a mixture of shame and desperation and helplessness that pricked at him from the inside like inverse acupuncture. His eyes grew warm with moisture, and he wiped the welling tears away with a napkin.

And then from the depths of his memory, stimulated by either his despair or his determination, the right neurons interacted, exchanged electrical signals, and catapulted a dormant idea to his attention.

_His secret weapon._

Hikaru sprang back to the keyboard and entered Sai's alias and password into the login screen. Fresh energy coursed through his arms, no doubt provided by the thought that he still had a chance to vindicate Sai. But he stopped himself just before he logged on. His hand hovered over the return key in a spontaneous ceasefire. He remembered his promise to not touch his account, his last relic in this plane of existence. He could still take it back.

But, he rationalized to himself, it was Sai's move. It was he who wanted to play at 11-9, not me. I'm just the courier, so I should harbor no qualms. Yes, I like that.

He hit the "Enter" key.

Wasting no time, Hikaru copy and pasted his earlier recommendation of 11-9 into a new post, altered some of the sentences so as not to give away his identity, and clicked the "Reply" button. After a few agonizing seconds, a new screen popped up. He'd been redirected to a new page. "PERMISSION DENIED," it said in giant letters. Of course. Sai didn't have a tag.

Hikaru grumbled at the thought of having to appeal to the main forum. With all the users finishing their 48 hours of silence, even a post from Sai would probably get washed away in the voluminous flow of new posts. Besides, most of them wouldn't even know who he was. The odds were against him, but he had to try.

He entered the revised post in the text box for a new thread on the public message board, coughed, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and submitted it.

The reaction was immediate.

The first two pages of the new thread filled to capacity in under a minute. Their savior had arrived. Not even the crowd waiting for Charles Lindbergh in Paris had been this enthusiastic. It was almost exactly as he'd imagined. Anyone who wasn't acquainted with Sai's legend learned about it from the various other threads that popped up afterward. He was the one who had vanquished NetGo's best players years ago. He was the one who caused a stir at the 1999 Amateur World Championships. He was the one who bested Meijin Touya. The forums erupted in a frenzy. NetGo's servers were redlining from the massive inrush of activity. By the time Hikaru returned home at 10 o'clock his thread had generated over 2,000 replies.

The effect of Sai's arrival became apparent on the poll. The votes had not just shifted, they had galvanized. Although most of the tagged users maintained their support for 3-14, the multiplied weight of their individual votes was losing ground to the sheer quantity of regular users switching their collective votes to Sai's suggestion. The corner move's stranglehold on the poll had loosened from 77.42% to 45.03%, although it still held the plurality. Sai's move commanded 35.46% of the votes, up from its measly 4.91% just hours earlier.

Their percentages continued to approach each other asymptotically as the clock wound down to midnight. At 11:49:44 PM, the center move finally supplanted the corner move. For the first time in the match, NetGo had officially vetoed Koji's suggestion.

The World would meet Shusaku on his home turf.


	11. Chapter 11

Koji Mizutani lay down an array of stones on his Go board, reconstructing Monday's game against the Meijin. He occasionally glanced at the phone by his recliner as he went. He was expecting a call.

Koji was an unprepossessing man with a shock of grizzled hair and bags beneath his eyes. At 26, he looked 46. Maybe it was his sallow complexion that gave observers the impression that he was chronically malnourished. Or maybe it was his bony cheeks that jutted out like rock outcroppings. Whatever it was, people always assumed him older than his actual age.

He'd never been very good at chasing girls or following pop culture. In school, he had never participated in sports or traditional extracurricular activities. Socializing came as a chore to him, and he refused to speak up in class unless he absolutely had to. Until 5th grade, his classmates knew him as the resident deaf-mute. The runt. There's always one in every grade, they would whisper to each other. It's not that he disliked talking. Words just polluted his concentration. To feed the demon that possessed him, he had to clear his mind of cant.

Go.

He learned how to hold a stone before he learned how to hold a bottle. For as long as he could remember, Go had been an integral part of his existence. His memory consisted of little other than volumes upon volumes of matches, tactics, and patterns. Even from age four, practice sessions consumed so much of his time that it impinged on his sleep. He memorized games and absorbed strategies. More often than not, he played until his finger bones felt like brittle iron. He trained every day without fail. Perhaps that was the exception to the rule that all rules have exceptions.

Blazing hotter and brighter than his passion to play Go, however, was his will to win. Competition of any sort roused a profound, animalistic drive within him. He hungered. Measly successes only propelled him to seek out tougher opponents and claim more lopsided victories. He would stop at nothing until he had overpowered the best of the best in Go. And to accomplish this goal, he resolved to use whatever means necessary, even if that included cheating.

At age 7, he played an exhibition match against an Insei from his district high school. Koji played as Black, and the game eventually entered Yose with him trailing by only half a moku. It was then that he unraveled a hidden White stone from beneath the table and deposited it in his own agehama*, prevailing by the half-moku that should have secured his defeat. He was never caught.

His father, a 3-dan pro, often traveled to other cities to compete in matches, so he hired tutors to teach him Go in his stead. Koji found out quickly that he could trounce them without effort, and he refused to waste any more time with those "charlatans". By age 10, Koji could play evenly against his father. The next year, Koji enrolled as an Insei, and the year after that, he became a pro, winning all his matches by large margins.

He conquered the low-dan circuit easily enough, winning a series of minor titles across Asia and humiliating players four times his age in the process. The International Go Federation named him Rookie of the Year and bestowed upon him a 6-dan title. It was then that he encountered opponents that he could not defeat so handily. He had arrived at an impasse.

His hard work had carried him this far in the world of professional Go, above the throng of Insei and the hordes of low-dan pros, but at the top echelon of players, things were different. Here, everyone worked as diligently as he did, so it wasn't a matter of toil as it was of talent. Contrary to popular wisdom, the speed at which someone learns a new skill isn't a direct measurement of talent but only an indirect reflection of it. Real talent dictates not how fast but how _far _you can go. In other words, talent is aptitude. And aptitude isn't something you can gauge easily. It only reveals itself when you reach your limit, and that may not occur until you've invested years into the craft. And once you've hiked up the learning curve, mastered the elements, and leased out a shard of your soul to get there, you may find out that you're nothing special after all and that your asshole neighbor is actually a Go genius, if he would only pick up a stone. This is what happened to Koji Mizutani.

He almost quit Go entirely. For a year, he left the circuit and sojourned in the United States. No one knew what he did during his stay. Some said he traveled there to spar with the American pros, others said he sought quiet meditation in the Appalachian mountains, but most claimed he simply went there to escape the vicious world of professional Go and rethink his career path. Whatever happened, he had changed. When Mizutani reentered the pro Go circuit the next year, he played with his characteristic attacking style. But more unsettling were the "psychological moves" that threw off his opponents. This combination of offense and intimidation helped him attain his first major title at age 17. By the end of the year, A Chinese Go columnist claimed that in his hands, a stone was more dangerous than a revolver.

Koji inspected the saturated board in front of him. He picked up a stone in his fingers and held it against the indoor light. He nodded thoughtfully and set it back down. That was the move that won him the game against the Meijin. He was now ahead in the match for the Asia Cup, historically the most prestigious tournament in Go. It was to be a best-out-of-nine series with one game played every week. Participants often complained about the length between games, but this had been the tradition since the Heian era when the emperor believed that contestants ought to play only when the moon was half-light, half-shadow, so as to bestow a fair chance upon each side. Modern constraints lowered the interval between games to one week, and promoters were happy to keep it that way, since the prolonged schedule allowed fans to generate more buzz, which led to a higher viewership and more merchandise sold.

For the past week, he'd been preparing obsessively for the match, learning and relearning the Meijin's playing style, and employing a laserlike focus to refine his own tactics. Koji had a losing record against him, which peeved him to no end.

But now he was distracted. It was like trying to read a book while a boombox right next to his ear screeched out a high-pitched whine. He sat back in his recliner and released a frustrated sigh.

The phone rang.

Koji snapped the receiver off the hook and pressed it against the side of his head. "Yeah?"

"It's me," said a familiar, oily voice.

"I know it is, and I know what you're going to say."

"Yes?"

"Why," started Koji, "did they play in the center?"

"Correct, my friend. And why did they do that?"

"I don't know. I'm wondering that myself."

"Well, that doesn't seem to be helping."

Koji sighed.

"So, tell me what happened," said the voice.

"A user named Sai showed up."

"Sai? Who's that?"

"He might as well be Jesus. Or the Beatles. Wasn't it Ringo who said they were more popular than Jesus? Or was that Lennon?"

"What the hell are you trying to say?"

Koji lifted a Go stone from the board and massaged the grooveless edges with his fingertips. He always enjoyed that sensation. It eased his mind. "Ah, it was Lennon!" he exclaimed.

"Huh?"

"Look, what I'm trying to say is that this Sai person really shook up the board. He posted a thread at around 8 o'clock last night, and the board just had a conniption. Totally, utterly, absolutely apeshit. You know what I'm saying? Not even a primetime report showing footage of a presidential candidate committing rape and murder could shift votes that quickly. I've never seen anything like it."

"What do you know about this guy?"

"All I know is that he was a big thing on NetGo a few years ago. He crushed all of the players who challenged him, including a few really strong amateurs and even a couple of pros. I wasn't there to witness it; I read all of that in one of the threads someone created to explain why he was such a big deal. I also read from that topic that he beat the Meijin. Quite an accomplishment if I do say so myself."

"Don't flatter yourself, boyo. You still have to win four more games to win the title."

"True."

"And remember: we may be old friends, but we're also business partners, and we both know very well that you can't beat the Meijin on your own. You need my help. You need Shusaku's help."

"Yeah, yeah," grumbled Koji. He tossed the stone up and down in his hand. "I'm trying my best."

"That excused stop working at the end of grade school. I would know. I'm a university professor."

"It was a freak occurrence. Or a new variable to the equation, if that suits you. But either way, this Sai person is going to be a problem."

"I don't understand. Does this guy have a tag? Is he a pro?"

"No tag. Not a pro. It's just that he's apparently Bigfoot, James Bond, and Moses all wrapped into one package. He's a walking myth. An anonymous celebrity. Everyone wants a piece of him. And he can influence the votes with that kind of popularity."

"Yeah. And you're just as popular, except you're a 9-dan pro, right? Why are we having this discussion?"

"He's not just an ordinary player. I've looked up some of his past games. He plays at my level, maybe even at a higher level."

"_Well_, now. That has to mean a lot coming from an arrogant bastard like yourself."

Koji laughed. "Fuck you, Sam."

"But joking aside, is he really that good?"

"No doubt. He plays as well as Shusaku. The player, I mean. Not the machine."

"So, what are we gonna do?"

"I'll try to divert them to the corner. All the amateurs listen to whoever gives off the impression that he knows what the heck he's talking about. It could be me, or it could be Sai. But it seems at least that the other pros are with me on this one. They're too nervous and conservative to fight for the center. So, I'll just keep leveraging the pros to try and convince the amateurs to avoid the center."

"I guess that's all we _can _do."

"One more thing. I want to know why you want me to keep convincing NetGo to keep the battle in the corner. Because I'm just as clueless as they are in the matter."

"Christ, Koji. Not this again."

"Look, for someone who helped to design Shusaku, I don't know a whole damned much about it."

"That's because you didn't contribute a whole damned much into it. You just suggested a few things here and there. Besides, that was for the old Shusaku. This is a new build almost from the ground up."

"Whatever. The issue is that now that they've actually played in the center, something's happened, and I want to know what it is. I mean, I feel like I'm trapped in a room with a fire burning right outside the door. I just want to know how hot it is."

A pause on the other end. "Okay," said the voice. "But you better pay attention, because I'm not going to repeat myself."

"I'm listening."

"It's like this: Shusaku isn't perfect. You know that. It can't even beat a pro in a traditional game that starts out at the edges. But we figured out that if you lay a few stones in the center first, it plays exponentially better."

"Why's that?"

"It's complicated, Koji. I don't have time to explain all the math to you. Just know that the heuristic I designed for the machine functions a lot more efficiently if it's got stones in the center to work with. I know that sounds paradoxical, but you'll have to take my word for it."

"And how many stones does Shusaku need in the center for it to work?"

"The optimum is six, but that's only if the opponent doesn't fight for the center. If Shusaku has one stone in the center, and the other side has one stone, then Shusaku's zero net stones in the center. Just subtract the number of stones from each other. Right now, at one extra stone in the center, it can maybe beat a skilled amateur. At two stones, it can beat a low level pro, at three stones, a mid level pro, at four stones, a high level pro, at five stones, a top level pro, and at six, Shusaku can play perfectly. Well, not perfectly, but for all intents and purposes, you can say that. I'm not a picky guy."

"I see. Interesting."

"I'm glad you found it so," said the voice. "Now you understand how important it is to get NetGo away from the center. I don't think I need to remind you that ThinkingMachines is staking a million dollars on this. If we win, we'll have proven to the world that Shusaku is unbeatable. We'll possess the strongest Go playing program on a single CD-ROM. Do you know how much that CD would be worth?"

"Probably still not enough to fill up my Mazda."

"Oh, I guarantee it will. In fact, it'll buy you a _new_ Mazda. And then you can make a thousand copies of the CD and buy a thousand new Mazdas."

"Why the hell would I want a thousand new Mazdas? I'll just buy a Lamborghini instead."

"Whatever you like. On the flip side, if we lose I'm never getting another dime from TM in funding ever again. Not only that, I've anted my reputation on this challenge and on you, Koji. You need to pull through for me. Don't disappoint me."

"I'll try not to."

"By the way," he said, "your next game against the Meijin is next Monday, right?"

"Yeah."

"Is everything in place? Does anyone suspect anything?"

"Works just fine. Like usual. You just send the moves when I signal for it, and I can take care of the rest."

"Okay. And now that I've told you about how the new Shusaku works, don't be an idiot and go placing six stones in the center or anything like that. Use it when you're in a pinch, but don't rely on it. Maybe once in every five moves at most. I think you know that already. I'm sure you can play evenly against the Meijin on the other four moves.

"That's so sweet for you to say that about me, Sam. You really are a darling."

"I'm glad I mean so much to you. You ought to buy me a nice lobster dinner when you take the title."

"I thought you'd have gotten sick of seafood by now, having lived in Boston for, what, twenty years?"

"Fish, perhaps. Lobster, never."

"Lobster it is, then. I'll give you an update at the end of the week."

"I'll be expecting it. Goodbye, Koji."

"Sayonara, Samuel."

Koji hung up the phone, feeling a bit better about the challenge and his title match against the Meijin. He rolled back his shirt sleeve and clenched his fist. For almost a decade, that subtle little gesture would reliably trigger a tiny subcutaneous implant to emit a radio signal to the Shusaku machine in Tokyo and prompt it to spit back the coordinates of the move it had calculated for him in the form of soft electrical shocks. Ten jolts in sequence followed by a pause followed by two jolts meant for him to play at 10-2. Those shocks used to startle him, like a boy bucking in his seat when his pop tarts ejected from the toaster, but they didn't bother him anymore. He'd gotten used to them.

His trump card. His lifeline. He didn't much give a damn about honor. He was going to humiliate the Meijin one way or another. His desire to win had shuffled off any scruples he may have had a long, long time ago.

Koji sank back into his recliner and continued to manipulate the stone with his fingertips. It helped him think, and he had a lot of thinking to do.

* * *

><p>*An agehama is the lid of the bowl that holds the Go stones. Traditionally, captured stones are placed there and added to the player's score at the end of the game.<p>

**Author's Notes: I have no clue what's going to happen.


	12. Chapter 12

When Hikaru logged on the next day, he found a new message in his mailbox. No one had ever sent him a private message before. He didn't even know someone _could _send him a private message on NetGo. He opened it.

…

…

**Hermes [PRO-3] [8-6-02, 8:48:23 AM]: **Did you see Sai's post?

…

…

That was it. Blunt and unimportant. Innocent on the surface, but Hikaru knew Akira too well to fall for his trap. He wanted a more elaborate answer. To reply with something curt like "yes" would be considered rude, especially to an acquaintance. This was his way of prying. Just like those professional conversationalists who pause and nod thoughtfully after someone speaks in order to elicit a longer explanation. Touya Akira wanted to know if he had anything to do with Sai.

Hikaru decided to respond with a slightly longer message, not too indifferent, not too solicitous (although it's hard to do that when you have a guilty conscience). He had no choice but to maintain the façade that he knew nothing about Sai, even though Akira had already accused him of it:

…

…

**Hikaru [PRO-1] [8-6-02, 12:10:05 PM]: **Yes, I saw Sai's post. Did you? The board went nuts. I can't believe the votes shifted so much so quickly. It looks like Sai's influence is greater than Koji's. What do you think about that?

…

…

Satisfied, he submitted it. Akira wouldn't reply until tomorrow. Meanwhile, Hikaru browsed the forums, coughing as he went.

Hikaru's cold was fickle. It would remain hidden for one day and surface the next. Then it would disappear and then reappear again, but with twice the intensity. It was like having to deal with an extended bout of stomach cramps. He thought it had something to do with the dosage of Dr. Tanaka's Cold Remedy™, so he took an extra spoonful of the stuff earlier that morning. It seemed to help, but then again, maybe it didn't have any effect at all.

To Hikaru's surprise, the front page of the public subforum abounded with topics about Sai. Is he a pro? How old is he? How come no one knows who he is? Maybe he's a double agent for Shusaku? There were pages and pages of them, all asking questions, none providing answers. Some users even invented details to perpetuate the Sai legend. Depending on which thread you skimmed, Sai was either an old Japanese Go master based in Osaka, a Korean pro tarrying in Nagoya, or Tokyo University's entire Go club. These threads were technically off-topic, but with 400,000 members and increasing, the moderators just couldn't keep up. On the other hand, useful posts that actually offered analysis for moves were lost in the noise.

Hikaru hadn't predicted this. Sai's influence was far more potent than he'd ever imagined. Such a simple thing; a three letter username, yet just posting from it had effectively paralyzed NetGo's message public board. It wasn't his little ace in the hole, it was a nuclear warhead, and the fallout poisoned the World's ability to hold a meaningful and coherent conference.

Sai's post did something else to the forum. It planted the seed in the users' collective attitude that fighting for the center was indeed a viable strategy. Hey, if the greatest player on the internet thought it was a good move, why shouldn't you? Before his recommendation, the moves spoke for themselves through the poll. More than three quarters of the votes had been for corner play, and not even 5% supported the center option. But even now during Shusaku's think time, nearly half the users seemed to want to continue the engagement in the center.

Although the number of regular users had skyrocketed in the past couple of days, the number of tagged users stayed more or less the same. Only twelve new members had been granted tags the CNN broadcast. As a result, the ratio of tagged to nontagged users plummeted to around 1:175 and would continue to decrease for the foreseeable future. This also boosted the value of a tag. When NetGo had been small and communal, pros and semi-pros mingled with the recreational players on equal footing. No one was special because everyone knew each other. Now, tags represented status, they represented nobility. Hikaru suddenly found himself an audience that was willing to listen to him whenever he posted in the public subforum. Typing out a message now seemed a bit like scribbling down a divine ordinance to bestow upon the laity. He felt powerful.

Over at the tagged subforum, however, Hikaru was just another ordinary citizen. He scrolled through the topic list and clicked on one Koji had started.

…

…

**Thread title: The Issue with Sai.**

**Koji [PRO-9] [8-6-02, 6:21:55 AM]: **I was surprised as much as anybody else at NetGo's sudden change of heart on our last move. I thought we all really wanted to go for 3-14, but it ain't over 'til the fat lady sings, right? Everyone knows what happened by now. If you're not part of 'everyone' then let me recap. At around 8 o'clock yesterday evening, the poll showed overwhelming support for the corner move, 3-14, but a user named Sai logged in, posted a recommendation for 11-9, and somehow convinced the equivalent of a small city to switch their votes to his move.

I never disliked 11-9 as a potential move, I just thought 3-14 was better, and I vocalized such concerns in the MOVE 11 thread. So, when 11-9 actually won, while I was surprised, I wasn't disappointed. This center move is certainly viable, as if forces Shusaku's hand. Pursuing this line of attack, in my opinion, would not fare well for us, but that's not what I made this thread to discuss. You can find a more detailed analysis in the coming MOVE 13 thread that's due at the end of the day.

I came here to talk about Sai himself.

I'll say it straight: I don't trust him. And it's not because his move triumphed over mine (It really doesn't bother me. I promise), but because NetGo fell under his spell so easily. Here's what we know about him:

1) He dominated everyone on NetGo in the summer of 1999.

2) He beat the Meijin. I looked at this game myself, and the user 'toya koyo' definitely plays as well as the Meijin.

3) Here's the important one: Sai logged in to NetGo after a long stretch of inactivity, but play horrendously compared to earlier. I think the most reasonable explanation for this oddity is that the original Sai must have given his username to someone else, or the alias was hacked. Either way, I'm reasonable certain that more than one person has used the name 'sai' to play on NetGo. So, right now, we're placing all of our trust in some shrouded figure without an identity. Needless to say, this is not wise.

Some people will object by saying that Sai was last seen playing and winning against the Meijin. Yes, this is true, but are you guys really willing to bet our chances of winning that it's the same Sai? Until his return to NetGo yesterday, he hasn't been on for over a year! It's very likely that this current Sai is a faker, the same one that logged on after the original Sai vanished. Now, history is repeating itself, and we're all taking a huge chance by blindly following him like lemmings. Who knows how far the edge of the cliff is?

Furthermore, playing for the center this early in the game is much riskier than securing territory in the corner. I've studied some of his games, and the original Sai would never make a blunder like this. We would be better off just taking the safe route.

**Izuka [PRO-4] [8-6-02, 6:51:32 AM]: **Good points. I agree. Attacking the corner is the best strategy right now.

**Ichigo [PRO-1] [8-6-02, 7:30:33 AM]: **You don't need to convince us, Koji. Most of us can form opinions of our own, and we've all arrived at the conclusion that grappling for the corner is the best option. You should on the public subforum.

**Mencius [A] [8-6-02, 8:10:45 AM]: **I don't like the corner, and I don't like the center either. But if laying stones down in the center is really such a bad idea, then how come Shusaku's already put two down there? And I've got a feeling he's going to put more. Why don't we follow his example and reflect his strategy back at him?

**Kita [I] [8-6-02, 8:37:38 AM]: **Mencius: If your friends jumped off of a bridge, would you do it too?

**Mencius [A] [8-6-02, 8:55:03 AM]: **Kita: I don't know about your friends, but if my friends were jumping off a bridge, then they probably all had good reasons. Maybe the bridge was on fire, or maybe they were running away from a pack of wolves. So to answer your question: yes, if my friends all jumped off a bridge, I would follow them.

**Kita [I] [8-6-02, 9:01:22 AM]: **Mencius: Then you're an idiot.

**Mencius [A] [8-6-02, 9:11:13 AM]: **Kita: Better a freethinking idiot than a brainless brownnoser.

**Willow [PRO-9] [8-6-02, 9:15:44 AM]: **Okay, guys. That's enough. Let's remain civil here.

…

…

Hikaru perused a few more threads, but nothing really caught his attention. A significant number of them palavered on and on about random Go articles or speculated over Sai's identity or rumors about the challenge. The rest of the topics examined potential moves, but a lot of users were discouraged because the computer hadn't made its move yet. After all, if you devoted hours to typing up a lengthy analysis only to find out that Shusaku played a move you hadn't counted on, then you were just wasting your time. Indeed, NetGo's traffic dipped significantly during Shusaku's think time and shot back up again during the World's think time in a 2-day cycle.

So it wasn't a surprise that after Shusaku played at 11-10, bolstering his presence in the center, NetGo began to churn with activity. Tens of thousands of users logged in every minute to see the new move. Midnight cyber-pilgrimages. Coordinates and statistical tidbits were bopped around like beach balls at a rock n' roll concert. New threads sprouted up like dandelions, virtually all of them analyzing the new move. Shusaku had now connected three stones in a straight line. In a normal tournament match, clustering three stones so closely together in the center this early in the game would have cast the perpetrator into an unrecoverable situation. But as most of the message board had learned, this was not a normal tournament match.

About twenty minutes after midnight, Koji posted in the tagged subforum's MOVE 13 thread as promised.

…

…

**Thread title: MOVE 13**

**ThreadBot ****[8-7-02, 12:00:00 AM]:** This is the official thread for the 13th move of this game, and our 7th move overall. From the time of this post, we will have 24 hours to discuss our next potential move. Our time will end on Friday, August 8, 2002 at midnight.

Please keep this topic on track and civil. Thank you.

**Lu [PRO-4] [8-7-02, 12:04:41 AM]: **We can't afford to keep playing footsies with Shusaku for the center. Go for the corner.

**Tami [I] ****[8-7-02, 12:12:32 AM]: **Count my vote for the corner.

**Koji [PRO-9] [8-7-02, 12:19:55 AM]: **Where are we now? Let's take a look. With 12 moves made, 4 of them have been in the center, and 8 of them have been on the edges. Take a look at any pro match, and you'll find that with very, very few exceptions, all 12 moves will be around the edges.

With the previous move of 11-9, we forced Shusaku to connect his two stones in the center, but now we need to get back to business. For all you newcomers: know that Go is all about claiming territory. Influence is important, but not as important as securing territory. This is why attacking the corner is a good idea. We can reap the immediate benefits of extra points without making a fuss about how the center's going to even everything out in the long run. We can avoid that hassle altogether.

More specifically, I still like my move of 3-14. It attacks White's corner, and will put us up by a solid 6-7 points if we play well. Alternative moves include 2-14, a more traditional type of joseki. If you're feeling particularly perky, you could consider going for moves like 10-17, which is a side move, and isn't as defensible as a corner move, but issues a looser claim for a larger gob of territory.

I think all the users on this subforum more or less agree that the corner is the way to go. If any of the new users don't understand how this all works, please don't hesitate to make a new topic in the public subforum to ask for clarification.

**Kinsen [I] [8-7-02, 12:27:34 AM]: **Koji: Good job as always.

**BakaGaijin [PRO-2] [8-7-02, 12:30:10 AM]: **Koji: 3-14 is a nice and simple move. I don't like 10-17 because it's too … airy.

**Marcus [A] [8-7-02, 12:39:55 AM]: **And if I may, your honor, I would like to present the case for the other side. Unlike, Koji, who's been regurgitating the same stock arguments for defending the corner, I'd like to employ a novel kind of approach. I hope you (tagged and untagged users alike) can all appreciate this.

Shusaku is a type of opponent we've never faced before. This Go engine's opening fuseki is indeed very odd and rarely seen in professional play, and just about everyone assumes that rare moves are bad moves because they should have been long ago weeded out as unviable. However, the basic premise that everyone (but especially Koji) seems to be ignoring is that they've been weeded out by _human _players. Humans and computers will disagree what constitutes a good move. We see this in other games. The top computer chess programs sometimes play very quiet and subtle moves that are the end result of millions or even billions of calculations.

We need to incorporate this important distinction in our considerations for future moves. And how do we do that? Well, we start from square one. Let's consider three scenarios:

1) Center moves are better than corner moves.

-This is what Shusaku seems to assume. If this is true, then of course, our best option is to go for the center. If we play for the corner, then we'll only be digging a deeper hole for ourselves.

2) Corner moves are better than center moves.

-This is what Koji is assuming. Right now, we've planted five stones in the corners compared to Shusaku's three. So, if this premise is true, then we're in good shape. Even if we go for the center this turn and White plays for the corner on his next turn, we'll still have an extra stone in the corners and be ahead. This is the worst case scenario. In fact, it's likely that Shusaku will keep playing for the center.

3) Center moves are just as good as corner moves.

-Then we're playing evenly, and either a corner move or a center move would work.

The upshot of this analysis is that we can afford to fight for the center because Shusaku's already played there. He'd be up by only one stone if we played something like 11-10 or 11-8, both of which give us good options regardless of how White responds.

**Koji [PRO-9] [8-7-02, 12:46:21 AM]:** Marcus: I may be rehashing some of my older arguments, but that's because they actually work in practice.

In contrast, your "novel" analysis contains so many flaws that it's not worth listing them all. First off, you're assuming that we're _capable _of playing as well in the center as we do in the corners and edges. This is wrong however disheartening it may be. You said it yourself: Shusaku is capable of deep searches for the best move. In that case, we wouldn't last half a dozen moves if we wrangled for the center. There's a reason why the amount of theory for playing in the center during the early game is so scant. It's because we can't process those moves. We're better off staying in our home turf.

Second, you can't reduce the entirety of fuseki into three neat little assumptions. That's an oversimplification of an oversimplification. Playing it your way will lead us to certain defeat.

Third, I'm sure you're a young lad who's eager to make a splash in the Go world. Maybe you're riding an aftershock of 60's counterculture and trying to support, in your own warped brand of pseudo-hipsterism, whichever strategy the other tagged users dislike. Well, we're not in Kansas anymore, Marcus. If we're going to have any chance at beating Shusaku, loudmouths such as yourself ought to stop interfering with serious discussion and hindering our efforts to find a good move.

In summary, your argument is flawed, your logic is presimian, and you're about as wrong as a mustache on a woman.

**[Thread continues]**

…

…

Many users waited for Sai's recommendation. They didn't know that the boy behind the name would not log on to NetGo until the end of next week. Without a coherent leader to support an attack for the center or a solid alternative, Koji's corner move, 3-14, stood unchallenged, and maintained a 10% lead all the way to midnight.


	13. Chapter 13

Hikaru woke up the next morning to an ungodly throbbing in his head. His joints creaked like rusty door hinges when he bent them. His skin felt raw and sensitive. Nausea pricked at his viscera. When he tried to turn his body to a more accommodating position, he realized his pajamas were soaked. The entire night had been a full body sauna session. He hoisted an arm up with all his effort and stickered the back of his hand to his forehead to gauge the temperature. Hot. He was burning up.

He coughed a wet cough and when he swallowed, a bubble of pain inflated in his throat. Grimacing, he leaned up out of bed. His body rebelled. The shift in gravity churned his digestive fluids and threatened to push them up through his mouth. All the energy had evaporated from his muscles, and all that remained was an intense lassitude. It permeated his innards like some thick, black slime. Never before had he felt so lifeless.

"Ma," he whimpered.

No response. She was out shopping for her weekly groceries.

He lay back on the mattress, ignoring the uncomfortable sensation of damp fabric sticking to his skin, and tried to fall back asleep. No good. An amplified ringing in his ears made that impossible. He peeled off the damp covers, rotated his body, sat on the precipice of his bed. His legs dangled over the side as he appreciated how uncharacteristically cold an August day could get. Slowly, he touched the balls of his feet to the floor and lifted himself into standing position. He never remembered when or where he took his first steps as a baby, but it couldn't have been more difficult than trekking downstairs to the living room right now. Start with the basics, he told himself. One leg at a time.

A minute passed, and he made it to the top of the stairs. He gripped the banister and gingerly descended the steps. Meters stretched to miles. After a Herculean struggle, he was on the first floor. He breathed in shallow huffs. Still a bit of distance left to go.

Hikaru's legs wobbled as he toddled through the kitchen and then crashed onto the central sofa in the living room. He lay there for a moment to catch his wind. An bolt of icy lightning lanced down his spine as he released a coughed. He shivered like a naked animal caught without shelter on an arctic evening. He knew he should have been resting, should have been drinking lots of water, should have been taking some aspirin for the fever, but he needed someone to talk to. He coughed again.

He picked up the phone that idled on the nightstand next to the couch and stared blankly at the dial pad as he tried to think of his mother's cell phone number. It didn't come to him; delirium had clouded it. He tried to dig out someone else's number from his head. Akari. He remembered that one.

The buttons careened around in double vision as he hit them in (hopefully) the right order. The ringback tone hummed once, twice, then Akari picked up.

"Hello?"

"Akari…." It hurt to speak.

"Oh, Hikaru! I was just about to call you. Guess what? I bumped into Betty on the street yesterday on my way to the train station. She gave me an update on her grandma. Apparently, she's stable on dialysis for now, and her prognosis is looking better than it did a week ago. Betty says she'll keep fighting for another few years if all goes well, which sounds kind of morbid, but it's an improvement from the few months that the doctors originally gave her. Oh, and her family's also posted on the internet and told a lot of their friends about this, and they're getting donations already. Betty says she's going to start a fundraiser to pay for a kidney transplant. You should participate, Hikaru. At least you could play a game or two with her before school starts up again. What do you think?"

"I…"

"Hikaru? Are you okay?"

"…don't feel so good."

Apprehension seized her voice. "What happened?"

"Fever. I think. I don't know. I just woke and felt … weak."

"Oh, Jeez! Then you need to get back in bed _now_! I'll be right over with some medicine I have at home. Don't do anything drastic!"

"Hah … you're saying that like … I could do anything more than breathe."

"Listen, I have to hang up now, but I'll be there in a jiffy."

She hung up.

Hikaru trained his swollen eyes on the receiver and then limply dropped it back on the hook.

For a while, he just lay there gazing up at the ceiling and trying to pin the floaters to the center of his field of view. An unseen clock ticked, ticked, ticked. His body sank into the sofa like an amorphous blob taking the shape of its container. Several absent minutes passed. He shivered and coughed, head bobbed up and down. A cold isn't supposed to give you a fever, he thought.

When Akari finally arrived, he had slipped into a half-slumber.

"Hikaru! My God!"

Akari procured a packet of tissues from the handbag that hung from her shoulder and wiped away the sweat on his forehead. Wasting no time, she rushed to the kitchen to retrieve a glass of tap water and then dug out a white bottle from her jeans pocket. She poured two pills onto her palm and handed them to him.

"Take this with the water. It's an antipyretic. That means it fights fevers. Here, let me help you," she said, taking a seat on the couch next to him.

He did as he was instructed, popped the pills in his mouth, and Akari assisted with the water. His pharynx was still asleep, so he had to exercise all his willpower to swallow the medicine, suppressing a wheeze in the process.

"Hold on," she said. Akari flew upstairs and then returned a moment later with an armful of blankets that she pulled over his sprawled figure. "The one on your bed was all drenched in sweat and yucky, so I grabbed another from your closet. I hope you don't mind. I didn't find any skeletons in there."

Hikaru acknowledged her with an affirmative grunt.

"Let me call your mom," she said, reaching for the phone. "Do you know her number?"

He shook his head.

"Well, that's no good. Do you know where she might be?"

"Shopping, I think."

"Any idea when she'll be back?"

"A few hours." He groaned. "I'm sorry. Everything aches."

Akari's face contorted into an expression of emotional distress that matched his physical discomfort. "M-maybe I should call 119*?" she said with a wavering voice.

"It's just a fever. I'll be okay."

She looked down, her sleek hair curtaining her eyes. She balled her hands into fists and pressed them into her lap. She quivered like a volcano on the verge of eruption.

"Akari," he said. "What's wrong?"

"Stupid Hikaru!" she exclaimed. "You said you were okay when we had dinner with Akira. You said you were okay when we talked on the phone last week. Now you're running a fever and you're still saying that!" Tears snaked down her cheeks in rivulets.

"Akari, I—"

"I'm sorry. It's just that…" She dabbed her eyes with a tissue, inhaled, exhaled, regained her composure, and peered up at him in that severely cute way teenage girls spend hours in front of a mirror to perfect. Her lips widened as she formed an angelic smile. "It's just that I care about you, Hikaru."

Yesterday, the Shusaku challenge had been his main focus. It still was for more than half a million registered users and many times that number of lurkers around the world. China, Korea, Japan, the United States, Germany, Russia. A legion of participants engaged in one of the most important events in the history of computer science. But for just a sliver of eternity, it had lost its importance.

Maybe, he thought, that's what it really meant to grow up. To know what's important. To set your priorities straight, and to be honest about them. In this respect, he was a hypocrite. Go consumed him ever since he learned how to play from Sai. Club matches, internet games, amateur tournaments. Throw in sleep, eating, schoolwork, and a token slot in the schedule for socializing, and there was little room for anything or anyone else. Especially not Akari. Once Sai vanished, wasn't he supposed to pay more attention to her? Wasn't it him who fabricated that allegory about the Shogi master? Didn't he say that the boy had been blind? Yes, and the boy was still blind. Instead of Sai preoccupying him, it was NetGo. Akari faded into the backdrop once again. The game had pushed her away.

So, she had a right to be angry. He was a sinner. Besides being a hypocrite, he'd also taken everything for granted. His rival, Akira Touya, who inspired him to develop his own Go abilities and despite his cold front, still invited him to play together at the salon. That big buffoon, Fujiwara-no-Sai, who taught him everything with saintly patience and never once spoken down to him. And of course, his childhood friend, Akari Fujisaki, who never strayed from his side and even joined the Haze Middle School Go club to stay close to him. And not an ounce of appreciate for any of them. She had a right to be angry. And yet…

"I really do care, Hikaru," she said. "So from now on, don't make light of something so serious."

He mustered a feeble smile, said, "I'll try not to, mother."

"Ah, you're insufferable, Hikaru," she giggled. "I certainly do _feel _like your mother right now. But if I were going to play that role for more than a week, I think I'd die of anxiety." She offered him some more water, and he obliged for a quick sip.

"Akari," he said, "you shouldn't sit too close to me." He hacked, and a phlegmy whistle emitted from his throat as he recovered his breath. "Could be contagious, whatever I have."

She nodded, stood up, and covered her face with another tissue from the packet. "What do you think it is?"

"Maybe … flu?"

"Not likely. It's not flu season." She parked a finger on her chin and tilted her head skyward to ponder. "Hmmm…I think I know what it is." She leaned forward. "Tell me exactly how you feel right now."

"Exhausted."

"Like, don't-want-to-get-out-of-bed-exhausted or just-finished-the-Ironman-Triathlon-exhausted?"

"Second."

"Okay, so you've got a thick cough, a sore throat, a fever, and you feel like a boa constrictor that's just ingested an adult mountain goat. Am I right?"

He managed a weak nod.

"Well, I was gonna say strep throat, but strep throat doesn't make you this tired." She stared pensively off to the distance. "Then there's one other thing it could be."

Before he could ask what it was, the front door creaked open and his mother's voiced sounded, "Hikaru! Help with the groceries!" She trudged into the kitchen with twin bags in each hand. So focused on making it to her destination was she that she didn't even notice the purple haired guest until she spoke up.

"Mrs. Shindou! You're back!"

"Ah," she said, "Akari, I didn't know you were here." She craned her neck and spied her son sprawled out on the sofa behind the girl. "Hikaru? Why are you sleeping on the couch?"

"He's not feeling well, Mrs. Shindou," answered Akari.

This simple sentence precipitated a dramatic shift in her expression. Her mother was like that. Tell her you'll be back by dinner, come home at midnight, and she'll confess that she thought you'd been kidnapped and held for ransom. She dropped her bags and ran over to Hikaru's wan figure. "Goodness me! What happened!" she asked, planting her hand on his forehand. "You're a furnace!"

"It hurts for him to speak, Mrs. Shindou."

"A sore throat?"

Hikaru confirmed with a faint grunt.

"He told me he just felt really, really tired when he woke up," said Akari.

"Oh, Hikaru, I'm so sorry. If I'd known…." Her voice trailed off. "It was that cold, wasn't it? I should've known it was more serious than that. I should've had you see a doctor when it didn't get any better with the cold medicine." She sighed.

A warm draft knocked the open door against the back wall. The thin plastic handles of the shopping bags crackled like static as the air sashayed over them.

"I gave him some water and anti-fever medicine," said Akari.

Hikaru's mother swiveled around, smiled, and embraced her. "Thank you so much. You've done so much already. You really are something special." Looking back to her son, she said, "Jeez, Hikaru, you've taken her out on two dates and you still haven't asked her out?"

Akari reddened instantly. "Those were just … dinners," she squeaked.

Hikaru's mother clasped her hands together as to ask for forgiveness. "Ah, I apologize if I embarrassed you. I just think out loud sometimes."

"N-No problem, Mrs. Shindou."

"And as for Hikaru," she said, turning back to him, "I think we need to take you to a hospital to see how serious this is."

He wanted to protest, but the stillborn words perished before they fully formed. Any letter that required him to open his mouth disturbed his throat, which was all of them except 'm'. So, upon hearing the proposition, Hikaru could only reply with "mmm-mmm" while shaking his head.

"You _are _going to the hospital, young man," said his mother. "No 'buts' about it." She dialed for an ambulance while Akari assisted him with another sip of water. Hikaru half-heard her speak with the operator. "Yes… calling for my son… an ambulance, please… urgent, of course… no car… ten minutes… block 28… thank you." A muffled click of the receiver.

After that, Akari apparently had a long chat with his mother about something. Not, that he paid much attention to it because he didn't have much attention left to pay with. Delirium was consuming him. Occasional fragments of sentences found their way into his ears.

"…called me… as fast as I could." "…out shopping…supermarket two miles…can't believe…" "I didn't…cold was so serious…hope he isn't…" "…what it is?" "…had it before…really, really...mono…weeks out of school."

And he thought: Mono? That sounds familiar. Sure, I can remember that mp3s come in mono or stereo and that it takes, like, an hour to download single song, but that's not it. I've heard it in another context. Wasn't that the name of some kind of awful infection? Do I really have that? Am I going to die? No, it can't be _that _bad, right? But if I die then I won't be able to go back to school, which starts in early September and I wouldn't even mind the fact that this unlucky episode occurred right in the middle of summer break although it's a downer because most of my classmates are probably playing video games or out shopping or kicking a football around or watching imported television series like that new American Idol show that seems to have swept the entire Western Hemisphere or maybe they're actually doing their homework and reading the books their teachers assigned which may or may not have included _Shiloh_ which is honestly a one star novel but one that I'd given two-and-a-half stars to because I don't have the heart to exercise brutal honesty which was probably also the reason why I also haven't asked Akari out and that's not because I'm socially inept because everyone knows I'm a normal guy whose only abnormal feature is that I'm so normal except that's a lie because I've been possessed by a thousand year old ghost and attained pro status before graduating high school which is something not many normal guys can flaunt at a cocktail party so maybe I'm not so normal after all but that doesn't mean I'm socially inept either and maybe the real reason why I haven't asked out that girl whose name escapes me right now is because he don't really like her except that isn't true either because I really do like her and I really do dig her eyes so why I haven't asked her out yet seems like an unfortunate case of infinite recursion and now I remember the girl's name which is Akari because someone with a feminine voice outside just blurted it out loud enough for me to hear and jog my memory and now that same voice is saying something else. Hikaru? Hikaru? Ah, that's my name, isn't it?

Minutes passed. Finally, the sound of tires crushing gravel came from outside. EMTs clad in their official-looking blue-black uniforms found the delirious patient lying on the sofa along with two females urging them to hurry it up. They checked his pulse and assured them that he was going to be okay. They hiked the ailing boy onto a stretcher and carried him to the back of the ambulance, where one of the EMTs stayed to keep to tabs on him. The boy's mother jumped into the shotgun seat and told the girl through the window that she should get going and thanked her for her help. The driver started the vehicle, switched on the emergency lights, and plowed through the midday traffic at the speed of bad news.

Meanwhile, Hikaru's thoughts continued to wander like a vagrant, caroming from subject to subject without a real lease for dwelling anywhere.

* * *

><p>*119 is the emergency number in Japan.<p> 


	14. Chapter 14

When Hikaru came to, he was surrounded by dim light and the smell of cheap air freshener. He lay on a rickety bed that was divided into thirds like an ant to allow itself to recline. Next to him, an identical bed idled empty and unmade. After a few seconds, his eyes adjusted to the darkness and realized he was in a hospital room. It was plain and ugly. The walls, by some intersection of economic and psychological reasons, were painted a hideous salmon color. A bulletin board across from him held up checklists, graphs, and motivational messages printed in big bold letters. This wing apparently needed to work on its responsiveness to patients. Two sliding panels composed a window that revealed the light-polluted sky of the most populated city on Earth. It was nighttime. A live television perched in the opposite corner and soundlessly broadcasted the evening news. In the corner of the screen, the time read "21:54". He'd slept almost 8 hours.

His muscles had regained some of their strength, but he still felt weak. He inspected his body for tubes or patches or bandages and found none. Then he swept the room with his vision and discovered a paper bag on a table next to him. A note was stapled to the side, read:

_Hikaru,_

_I talked to the doctor, and he agreed with Akari that you've got mono. That's short for infectious mononucleosis, which I've been told, is highly contagious (you can spread the disease just by sharing straws! I think you might have caught it at the Internet café by tapping on their gunky keyboards). You've already felt the first of the symptoms today, which includes fever, sore throat, loss of appetite, nausea, and enlarged lymph nodes (not sure what those are). Normally, people with mono are told to stay home and rest, but the doctor said you've got a particularly serious case of it, and he recommended that you stay in the hospital for now. Sorry! I know it's your summer vacation, but I guess the virus didn't know that. However, the prognosis is good. I'm told that you'll probably feel really weak for maybe a week at minimum to (God forbid) a few months at most._

_Your father is on a business trip and won't be back any time soon, but he's also worried about you. I also told your friend Akira what happened, and he said that he'd come visit you tomorrow. Akari is also really worried about you. She was about to cry when you didn't respond to her calling your name. I was worried too, but she almost had a panic attack! How nice to have someone care about you so much! When you get better, you really should ask her out. I'm getting to that age where I'm starting to want grandkids, you know?_

_Anyway, I left some goodies for you in the bag along with something Akari told me that you should carry with you. She found it in your room, I think._

_I'm sorry I won't be here when you wake up. I stayed for two hours, but I still have some chores to take care of back home. I will definitely drop by soon._

_Hope you feel better,_

_Mom._

Hikaru looked inside the bag and found a bento and the fan that Akari had given him. Smiling, he opened the fan to re-admire Akari's bamboo portrait. The darkness plundered most of the detail, but he could make out the outlines. He folded the fan and placed it next to his pillow like a child's teddy bear. The bento didn't look appetizing; he wasn't hungry.

From outside the room, a steady patter of footsteps grew louder and louder, matching the beat of his own heart. Hikaru pulled up the blanket defensively and anticipated a nurse to peek into the room any second to check up on him. Instead, an old woman with rumpled, hoary hair and tired brown eyes ambled in. Her skin was even more wrinkled than the sea green hospital gown that lamp-shaded her body. She paused in her tracks, sensed some unseen disturbance, scanned around the room, and landed on Hikaru's nervous figure.

"Ah, you're finally awake."

She scooted over to his bedside and started to inspect his face, tilting her head at odd angles, seeking every crevice. Hikaru shrank into his pillow, but the old woman kept advancing, squinting her eyes to resolve a crease on his cheek from a blemish on his chin. The warmth of her breath splashed onto his face and raised the hairs on his nape into hackles. The scene reminded him of an optometrist examining his pupil through a slit lamp.

Just as he cocked his arms to push her away, she leaned back and said, "Very interesting, very interesting." Her voice was croaky and confident.

The back of his neck continued to tingle. "What the heck were you doing?"

"Testing," she said. "Sorry if that startled you. I've found it works better if I don't tell you beforehand."

"Testing? Testing for what?"

"Oh, all sorts of things," she said, picking away a crumb on her gown. "For example, I can tell that you're an ambitious person who's got something ponderous on your mind."

"That's like cold reading, isn't it? You can say that about anybody."

"Then how about this? You're in love, and the person you're in love with is also in love with you, and both of you sort of know this, but none of you have made the first move yet."

Hikaru's eyes widened. "Ah, and how did you know that?"

"I told you. It's your energy," she said. "Everyone exudes his own unique flavor."

"Uhh… you're not going to sell me some New Age mood ring or something, are you?"

A sly smirk filled her face. "No, Hikaru. I'm not."

"And how'd you get my name?"

"I told you already," she said. "I can feel your energy."

He swept the room and remembered the note on the table. "You talked to my mother, didn't you?"

Her smirk widened to a grin. "Ah, you caught me. We had a nice, long chat with her while you were asleep. She told me your name and your love situation with Ms. Fujisaki." She stood up, joints popping, walked over to her own bed, and stretched out on the white bed sheets. "I apologize for that little trick. I'm just an old joker, you know. I used that same trick to get my husband to date me. Then I did it to my children. Then I did it to my grandchildren. They all thought I had superpowers."

"You're a fascinating person, Mrs…"

"Matsubara. Shigeko Matsubara. Just call me Shige."

"Okay … Shige. But are we that close already? I mean, it's kinda weird for me to just call you Shige when I've just met you."

"Well, it's not weird for_ me_, and it's only weird for you because you want it to be."

He nodded, allotting a moment of silence to soak in the wisdom she seemed to be able to dispense so freely.

"So," said Shige, leaning into her pillow, "your mother tells me that you're in here for infectious mononucleosis, am I right?"

"I guess. I was asleep the whole time."

She nodded. "Well, you better be careful. Mono's not something you take lightly. It's very contagious."

"I don't know much about it," he said, "but if it's so infectious, then why do I have a roommate in the first place?"

"Hikaru, you silly boy. Do you really think the doctors would place me, a decrepit lady, in the same room as someone with your disease without doing some research first?"

"I guess not."

"You guess right. Once you get mono, it's almost impossible to catch it again. I got it when I was 32, and I stayed in bed for three weeks."

"Three weeks?" That was enough time to murder the rest of his summer vacation.

Shige sank her head into the pillow and gazed at the ceiling to gain easier access to the dusty parts of her memory. "Twenty-two days. Shared a drink with one of my friends. She got mono after that, and I got it a few days later. I felt like a corpse the entire time. No energy to do anything except sleep. Do you feel that way now, Hikaru?"

He coughed, said, "Sort of. A lot better than yesterday, though."

"Then why don't you get some rest?"

"I can't. I just woke up from an eight hour nap."

She sighed. "Then let's chat for a minute."

The muted television flickered and filled the otherwise tame room with its garish light. Shige picked up the remote from her bedside table and clicked it off.

"Now," she said, "your mother tells me you're a Go pro. Is that true?"

Hikaru shrugged to try and inject some modesty into his answer. "Yes, that's true."

"Amazing! I wish I could play Go for a living, but I'm just not good enough. I love Go. Used to play all the time at the Go salon at Block 16, but I stopped going last week when they plopped me here in the hospital."

Her words aroused something in his memory. "Wait a sec. Go salon on Block 16? Isn't that where Akira plays?"

"Ah! You know Touya Akira? He's the young master there. I never stood a chance against him. But that's to be expected. His father taught him how to play from a young age, and his father's no slouch himself. He's the Meijin. Did you know that?"

"Yes! Of course I kn—" Betty's face flashed across his mind. "Hold on, what are you in here for, if you don't mind me asking?"

"It's quite all right, dear." She pointed to the tall machine next to the window. It was about the size of a mini-fridge and featured enough dials and buttons to make a jumbo jet pilot jealous. A length of rubber tubing connected the main body to a pouch mounted on the side to and then extended to an open end in a broken circuit. "That's a dialysis machine. It filters my blood for me because my kidneys can't anymore. I used to come by the hospital a few times a week to get dialyzed, but now my kidneys have just about quit, and I need to do it a few times a day."

"You said you have grandchildren, right?"

She nodded. "Just two. My grandson, Hiroshi, is a graduate student in England studying for his degree in tourism, and my granddaughter, Ayame, is right here in Tokyo working her butt off to take care of me."

"Ayame? Does she call herself that?"

"No, actually. She calls herself Betty."

Betty! Of course, out of the thousands of potential roommates he could've been matched with, he ended up with her grandmother. Perhaps it was coincidence, but perhaps not. Hikaru hadn't believed in fate until he met Sai. And if he could believe in a spirit sealed inside a thousand year old Go board, he could believe in something as mundane as fate.

Shige continued. "I bought her a book of American cartoons and comic strips and she just fell in love with it. Betty Boop was her favorite character, so that's why she adopted that name. We all thought it was just a phase, but she never grew out of it. Now, she wants to move to America and marry a homegrown boy there."

"That's pretty romantic."

"I think so, too. My son, her father, doesn't think it is. He's very conservative and wants her to marry a Japanese man. Boom. End of story. But I think it's a lovely proposition. Maybe he'll see it my way when he approaches my age."

"Shige," said Hikaru, "I know this sounds abrupt, but would you like to play a game of Go right now?"

She smiled, her time-worn eyes and saggy jowls steadfast in their stand against senescence. "Maybe tomorrow, darling. This bag of bones needs to go to sleep."

"Oh … I, uh, didn't know you were so tired. Sorry."

"I'll take it as a compliment if I look more alert than I actually am." She reached over to the wall and flicked off the light switch. Darkness descended.

"Good night, Hikaru," she whispered.

He swallowed and briefly admired the stars shimmer in a sharper contrast. "Good night, Shige."


	15. Chapter 15

Morning greeted Hikaru with a bright slap of sunshine on the face. He yawned and stretched to purge the sleep from his muscles. His shirt wasn't soaked (a good sign). A persistent lethargy still tugged at his body, but he felt good, all things considered.

Shige was already awake and watching two men in suits conversing on TV. One of them spoke in an elegant baritone, and Hikaru immediately recognized the voice as belonging to, Kazuya Itsuki, the commentator for the 24/7 Go channel. He spoke to a Caucasian man with glasses that Hikaru had never seen before on the channel. Probably a guest commentator. The letters on his nameplate were too small for him to read at this distance.

The shot cut to a Go board that dominated the screen while the two men were relegated to a small box in the corner. On the board, several black stones lined the edges and corners, while a couple of white stones concentrated in the center.

"So, here's the most recent position from the Shusaku challenge," said Kazuya.

Hikaru remembered that the World had made its move about a day and a half ago, so while he was asleep, Shusaku had spent its think time performing calculations and finding the strongest move. That meant that right now, a little less than 12 hours had elapsed for NetGo to play its next move.

"Did you happen to catch White's previous move, Dan?"

The Caucasian man, Dan, replied in Japanese diluted with a foreign accent that Hikaru couldn't quite place. "I did. He played at 12-9." He hovered the cursor over the new move and then looped it around the single black stone beside it. "Of course, this maneuver is an obvious assault on the World's lone outpost in the center. White needs two more moves to capture it, but if you ask me – actually, if you ask anybody, this move is not very good. In fact, it's outright terrible."

"Yes, yes, I thought so too," said Kazuya.

"A lot of Go enthusiasts in my country are beginning to think that this whole thing is becoming a farce. I mean, you cannot possibly hope to come back from a three move deficit against the minds of over a million users on the internet."

"A million users on NetGo? How did that happen?"

"I saw a brief segment about the Shusaku challenge when I was watching TV back home. That may have something to do with it."

"A primetime airing in Germany about Go? That's wild!"

"Hey, I was as surprised as you are now."

"I bet," said Kazuya. "Do you participate in the discussions on NetGo?"

"I think every pro in the world's participating. This is the most exciting thing to happen to Go since the house games of the Tokugawa era!"

"Agreed, agreed. But back to the board." He motioned to a computer monitor that rested off-screen. "You said previously that a lot of the enthusiasts in Germany are beginning to think that this game is becoming a farce. Could you elaborate on that? I'm sure we have a lot of viewers right now who aren't well acquainted with Go."

"Sure," said Dan. "You see, it's always been the prevailing strategy to play for the corners early on. That's because when you play in the corner, you _know _you're securing territory. You can lean on the edges of the board in case you get attacked, and you can generally gain several moku with a good defense. If you play in the center, however, you're not securing any territory. It's just too easy to attack the center. Most players view early moves in the center to be a waste of a turn. If that's true, then Shusaku has already wasted four moves in the center. It's a very stubborn kind of playing style."

"Three moves," said Kazuya. "Don't forget that we've also got a stone in the center."

"You're right. Thank you. So, four white stones and one black stone make a net loss of three turns for Shusaku. In a pro match, you might as well resign." Dan pursed his lips and shrugged. "But, who knows? Maybe the computer's got a few tricks up its sleeve that we humans can't process with our inadequate brains."

"Fair enough. You said earlier that Shusaku's playing style was 'stubborn'. What did you mean by that?"

"Some players such as Seiji Ogata employ a very fluid and responsive kind of style. They mold their strategy based on what their opponent plays. However, Shusaku has a very concrete plan that he doesn't want to stray from. It looks like that one stone we've placed in the center has thrown it into a rage."

Kazuya nodded. "Well said." The digital Go board vanished and the screen cut back to the two men. "The Shusaku challenge is indeed becoming a spectacle, but there's also a title match in progress. I'd like to talk about that if you don't mind, Dan."

He nodded.

"The Asia Cup is widely held to be the most prestigious tournament in Go, and right now, we've got two jousters, Koji Mizutani and Kouyo Touya, going head to head for the title." He turned to his guest. "Any predictions as to who'll win?"

Dan pushed his glasses against the bridge of his nose. A moue crossed his face. "Mizutani, probably."

"Did I sense a bit of contempt in your voice?"

"No, no, no," said Dan, waving his hand. "I've nothing personal against the guy, but I just don't like the way he plays."

"Elaborate, please?"

"The only word I can use to describe his style is 'unsettling'. It's just … oh, I don't know. I've seen some of his games, I saw the match he played with the Meijin on Monday, and he makes very jarring moves at times."

"Have you ever played him?"

"Once. He beat me by half a dozen moku, I remember."

"He play any 'jarring moves'?"

"No, but I was just a 2-dan pro back then. It seems the tougher his opponent, the more of those kinds of moves he makes. They're very psychological and deceptive, like a fencer's feint. I don't know how he comes up with them."

"Indeed, I've never played him, but I've seen some of h—"

"I never liked him."

Hikaru looked over at Shige, the source of the comment. She shifted her hands from beneath the covers and shook her head.

"Who? Mizutani?"

"Yeah."

"His playing style bugs you too, huh?"

"I don't care about his playing style," she said. "It's the way he carries himself."

"His personality? Yeah, I know what you mean. NetGo doesn't like him at all. At least the public subforum doesn't.

"No, it's not that, either. His vibes, Hikaru. It's his vibes."

"Vibes?"

"Vibrations." Shige turned to face him. "You ever listen to the Beach Boys?"

He fidgeted. "Uhh, I don't really … know who they are."

"Oh, you poor, poor soul," she said. "Anyway, something about that man doesn't sit right with me."

The two men on television moved on to analyzing last Monday's game between Koji and the Meijin. Shige extended her arm to offer Hikaru the remote. "Go ahead and watch something else, dear. I'm out for an excursion."

Hikaru watched her get out of bed in jerky motions and awkwardly slip on a sweater. She winced as she tunneled her arms through the sleeves. Maybe it really wasn't the case that her kidneys were killing her as it was that every organ in her body was disintegrating at once and her kidneys were the closest to the finish line. A wave of guilt washed over him as he finished the thought.

"I'll be back in a few hours," she said as she hobbled across the room. "We can play a game when I get back. I'll bring the board and stones. Do you want me to get you anything?"

"No. Ah, actually, yes. Could you ask the nurse if I could get a laptop with internet access to my room?"

"I'll do that."

He nodded, thanked her, and she was out the door.

Outside, the late morning heat baked air and desiccated soil. Close to a hundred degrees. One of the hottest days of the summer so far. Hikaru envisioned his friends splashing around in the ocean, water blue-in-blue, bumping volleyballs and playing chicken. When everyone returned to the beach, Tsutsui carried a giant watermelon to the camp and laid it out on the tarp. Akira was given a bokken, blindfolded, spun around thrice, and then told to split the melon. He marched up to his empty target, heaved the bokken earthward, and missed by two meters. Hikaru laughed out loud at the scenario. "That would never happen," he said to himself, "Akira's not that shameless. Akari, definitely."

Cough.

Hikaru fell back to reality. He was still sick. It would be another week at the very least until the doctor would discharge him. And as he lay bedridden, entropy was increasing around him. Unseen processes worked relentlessly in the direction of disorder. The days of vacation whittled away; his homework sat in his room unfinished; his social life hung in abeyance; the World continued to ignore Shusaku's menace in the center. A thousand things required his attention and here he idled.

He shook his head to rid himself of those thoughts like a dog trying to shake off water. Grabbing the remote in an effort to provide distraction, he flipped through the channels and landed on a promising anime about a motley crew of bounty hunters who live in a spaceship.

"I know that show."

Akira's voice.

He entered the room wearing a mask and paper gown that covered the lavender suit and milky white khakis beneath it. A small plastic bag hung from his fingers. His eyes seemed deeper, chin sharper, gait warier. Older. He'd grown older.

"Akira?"

He sat on Shige's empty bed facing him. Hikaru muted the television.

"How do you feel?" he asked. Even through the mask, Hikaru could tell from his tone that he was here strictly for business. He could've been negotiating with a co-worker for additional cubicle space.

"Like someone punched me in the gut, except I can't find my wind."

"Your mother called me yesterday. The doctor told her it was mono. Is that right?"

"That's what everyone tells me."

Akira placed the plastic bag on his bedside table and several books spilled out. "I realized you might get bored, so I brought you some of my old Go books."

"A-Akira, that's … very thoughtful of you. Thanks."

He nodded. "How long do you think you'll be in here?"

Typical Akira. Transaction complete. On to the next thing on the agenda.

Hikaru shrugged. "Maybe another few days at the very least."

"And at the very most?"

"At the very most, I may miss some school."

"That's not good."

"Hah. At least if that happens, I'll miss the back-to-school essay on what we did over the summer."

"Education is important."

"Uhh… if you say so, Akira."

Hikaru recognized this moment, this unnatural halt in the flow of words. It was a segue into the subject Akira really came here to talk about. Sai. The elephant in the room.

"Have you been on NetGo recently?" asked Akira.

"A few days ago."

"Well, things have gotten worse since then."

"How do you mean?"

"Zero civil discourse."

"What the hell is that?" asked Hikaru.

"Civil discourse. Meaningful discussions. No one wants to debate. They want to _argue_." He sighed and massaged his temples. "I thought this whole public participation thing would work out, but it doesn't look like we're making progress."

"Maybe it's just because NetGo's got so many users now, right?"

"Maybe," said Akira. "But maybe not. Maybe the rules I decided were doomed to fail from the very beginning."

"What are you talking about? We were doing fine with a small user base, but now that the community's really taken off, we're obviously gonna need new policies."

"Well, we've implemented them, but that just sowed more conflict. You know about the whole tagged subforum versus public subforum thing, I'm sure. All the pros are following Koji's recommendations to occupy the corners, and most of the amateurs want to attack the center."

"The amateurs want to attack the center?" asked Hikaru. He managed a steady tone despite how tightly anticipation clasped at his throat.

"Sai."

He gulped instinctively. "Really?"

Akira nodded. "Even though he's only posted one message, he still has a huge influence over the forums. Koji's corner moves used to garner 70-80% of all the votes. Now, it's only around 50%. The rest of the votes are split amongst several center moves. His ghost haunts NetGo."

"That's … interesting."

Akira shot him a dark glance. "No one knows who Sai is, but he's left behind a few clues."

Blood suffused through Hikaru's cheeks. It seemed as if the temperature in the room suddenly escalated by 20 degrees. Was Akira just trying to bait him out, trying to study his reaction for a trace of guiltiness, or did he really have solid evidence? Hikaru clenched his fist and said the only sensible thing a disinterested listener would say: "What clues?"

"Listen closely," said Akira. "Let me get the obvious ones out of the way. First, we all know that he's from Japan because NetGo tracks what country every user is from. That narrows it down to 125 million people. Still too many people."

He paused to study his reaction. Hikaru struggled to maintain a passive yet attentive front. The rivets holding his face together strained from the pressure.

"Second," continued Akira, "Sai's post came at a time when Koji's grip on NetGo was the strongest. Someone wanted to take him down."

"I think that one sounds a bit far-fetched," said Hikaru. "Just because Sai posted against Koji's move doesn't mean he wanted to take him down." A cold buzz of regret boiled through him. That was too risky, he thought.

But Akira nodded, said, "A fair point."

Relief replaced regret. Hikaru had avoided stepping on a mine.

"But now here's some important information," said Akira. "When Sai dominated NetGo several summers ago, many people thought he couldn't be a pro just because he wasted so much time playing against random amateurs. I thought this too until Sai showed up again on Monday. Then I knew he had to be a pro."

Hikaru resisted an intense compulsion to swallow. "And why is that?"

Akira trained his vision on him. "He tried to post to the tagged forum."

Of course! He hadn't been careful enough! He should've caught himself doing something so stupid, but emotion had overcome him. He wanted to slap himself on the forehead and groan, but those actions equated to a confession. Summoning all his discipline, he steadied himself, straining all guilt from his face.

"And how do you know he's a pro? Maybe he's an Insei or–"

"Hikaru!" he roared. "Open your eyes! Sai beat my father in a fair match! How could you possibly say he's an Insei or an amateur!"

"I was just trying to—"

"And the last clue," he exclaimed, "is that the content of his attempted post seemed suspiciously like what you posted just a few minutes before him."

"Suspiciously," repeated Hikaru. "Are you accusing me of being Sai?"

Hikaru ventured a peek at Akira and recognize his expression. It was the same one he wore when they started their rematch at the Go salon. That bitter look around which hurricane winds nucleated.

"Hikaru," he said, shaking, "tell me right now. Are you Sai?"

"And I'll tell you right now, I'm not—"

"No, don't answer that. I didn't ask you the right question," he said. "Answer this: can you access Sai's account?"

Time stopped. Somewhere far away, a basketball hung in midair, borne with freeze-dried momentum. A coin idled just above the ground in a perfect equilibrium of physical forces. In the Go salon, a tipped-over Go bowl dangled on the edge of a board, black stones tethered to the edge by invisible wire like a mobile. Above them was a paralyzed old man, arms spread, features arrested in a rictus of surprise. The whole of Tokyo sat in utter stasis. Cars parked in infinite stillness, people like full scale models in a wax museum.

In that frozen moment, Hikaru saw two threads that wound into the future. In the first one, he proclaimed his innocence and assured his rival that he had nothing to do with Sai's account. This seemed to anger him even more, and their relationship would warp into something twisted and foreign. In the second one, he admitted his guilt and told him everything about Fujiwara-no-Sai, emphasizing the utterly fantastical parts of the story. Yet, Akira would believe him without question.

Time resumed.

Barely audible, he whispered, "Akira … I…"

He paused. Maybe Shige or a nurse or anyone would walk in right now and relieve the tension.

"Can you? Can you access Sai's account?"

"I… I'm Hikaru. That's my username."

"Stop equivocating," he said, red all over. "Look me in the eyes and answer the question."

Hikaru peeped up, found Akira's gaze penetrating him. They locked eyes and for a while they were the only beings in the universe.

Silence.

Finally, Akira closed his eyes, sighed, and stood up. "Remember that match we played a few months ago right before the Hokuto cup? You told me that one day you would tell me everything. I thought today would be that day, but I guess I was wrong. That day is still in the future." He turned to leave. "When you're ready, I'll be waiting."

"Akira…."

"Hikaru, I hope you feel better soon." He left the room, and the pattering of his steps softened to silence.

Hikaru lay in bed, still disoriented by what had transpired. Akira's hurricane had ripped through him and left everything in rubble. He knew, but he didn't know. He was one step closer to finding out about the real Sai, yet also one step farther. And he did want to tell him everything. He wanted to let Akira know everything about everything so that he could empathize with him and share his experiences. But it wasn't time. Not yet. First, he had to beat Shusaku.

The lassitude from yesterday slowly crept back into his body. After a while, drowsiness had muzzled his thoughts and sent him adrift.


	16. Chapter 16

Days passed.

His disease didn't spare him a reprieve until a week later. Coincidentally, it was also on that day that Shige's request for a laptop on Hikaru's behalf finally went through. The nurse brought one in that morning. The machine was heavy and sluggish, but it could access the internet, and that was all he needed. Shige had asked the nurse why she didn't wrap it in plastic to prevent infection, and she replied that it was easier just to sterilize it later. She seemed satisfied with that explanation.

He logged on.

A popup informed him that Akira had replied to his message from more than a week ago. The contents simply read, "We need to talk". Too late for that, anyway.

He closed the popup and navigated to the up-to-date game board. The odd structure of the stones immediately struck him. Shusaku had not played anywhere but the center since its first foray for the tengen. Hikaru counted eight white stones to the three black stones in the center area. Three black stones. That meant NetGo had been alternating its moves between corner and center during the last seven days, which further meant that NetGo was split down the middle when it came to the poll results. That was Hikaru's hunch.

He closed the board and entered the main page. There, a large banner read: "NetGo now serves 2 million registered users from 156 countries."

The magnitude of that fact didn't sink in until he clicked on the link to the public subforum. Instead of redirecting him to the open forum as he'd expected, he was presented with a list of subsubforums. Among the new boards included: "Current Move Discussion", "Challenge/Shusaku Discussion", "Grand Strategy Discussion", "Random Talk", "Introductions", and half a dozen others. The "Current Move Discussion" board held the largest number of posts at over 500,000. Hikaru clicked on it.

A list of topics loaded as fast as the hospital's 56k modem would allow it to. After almost a minute, the titles finally finished populating the board.

"Occupying the corner: A death trap", "our situation", "Are you guys really that stupid?", "The ghost of Sai", "Playing by the book", "Computer fuseki", "The appeal of 4-7", and so on and so forth.

The timestamps on the most recent posts differed by mere seconds, and several pairs and even a few triplet posts occurred at the exact same times. Even for a subsubforum, the board churned with violent energy. The riptide force of activity pulled new topics off the front page and dumped them into digital oblivion. Indeed, the current page was just a snapshot of a beast in motion.

"What're you reading?"

Shige was watching the screen from her bed, continued, "Was that a Go board you were looking at earlier?"

"Yup. It's the Shusaku challenge."

"What's that?"

Hikaru explained everything to her.

"So," she said, after taking time to digest the whole thing, "you vote on moves to play against this supercomputer?"

"That's it, more or less."

"And you're saying that this … what did you call it again?"

"A forum."

"Yes, this forum, has over 2 million people on it?"

"Yes."

She ruminated over that figure for a moment.

"That's like the entire population of Osaka."

He nodded. "You want me to make you a name?"

Shige laughed. "Computers have a habit of combusting spontaneously whenever I try to use them," she said, shifting out of bed. "I think I'll go for my morning walk now." She slid into her slippers and headed for the door. "I'm serious about the combusting thing, you know. A computer actually did burst into flames when I was using it."

Hikaru wasn't sure if she was actually being serious, so he replied with a neutral "oh". She smirked and disappeared through the door.

Back to NetGo.

He clicked the topic at the top of the list.

…

…

**Thread title: Sai will never show up.**

**JamesDA [8-16-02, 10:44:19 AM]: **So, all of you said that Sai would show up and take Koji up on his offer, and yet here we are, all waiting for nothing. This is stupid. Every second that passes by is another precious sliver of time wasted to all of you idiots' delusions. This is a fact: SAI HAS NOT LOGGED IN SINCE HIS FIRST APPEARANCE.

Can any of you get that through your heads? He's not even going to log on let alone play Koji.

**Alarm [8-16-02, 10:44:47 AM]: **Troll alert.

**Jupiter [8-16-02, 10:44:55 AM]: **JamesDA topic. Nothing to see here, folks. Move along.

**Sadie [8-16-02, 10:45:04 AM]: **No, but seriously, why are we all waiting for Sai? This is getting stupid.

**IceT [8-16-02, 10:45:20 AM]: **as much as I hate to admit it JamesDA has a valid point. i'm also getting tired to waiting for sai to show up.

**Hikaru [PRO-1] [8-16-02, 10:45:43 AM]: **What are you guys talking about? What did JamesDA mean by "take Koji up on his offer"?

**RevolverOcelot [8-16-02, 10:45:48 AM]: **Trolls trolling trolls trolling trolls.

**Bandai [8-16-02, 10:46:13 AM]: **Hikaru: Have you been in a coma for the past week?

**Carrie [8-16-02, 10:46:34 AM]: **Hikaru: Koji issued a challenge to play him a few weeks ago. It's pretty hard to miss when that's like the only thing Random Talk discusses. I can find the link for you but it'll take a minute. Matthew's State of the Game update has a nice summary.

…

…

Hikaru searched for the thread and found it.

…

…

**Thread title: The State of the Game, part X**

**Matthew [8-16-02, 9:21:43 AM]: **Hi, everyone, this is the tenth installment of the series where I bring you up-to-date news on the Shusaku challenge. More specifically, on the politics of NetGo.

Let me start with the most obvious piece of news: NetGo now has 2 million registered users. H-o-l-y c-r-ap. Can any of you believe that? By comparison, the Kasparov versus The World match in 3 years ago didn't even have 100,000 users participating. This is a great milestone in the world of Go, and it will surely encourage more people to play the game.

But with more people come more problems. Let me preface this next discussion by saying that it's always hard to talk about politics and the like without sounding biased, but for the sake of this blurb, I hope you'll bear with me.

We are at war. And someone replies, 'of course we're at war. We're fighting against Shusaku'. No. That's not what I'm getting at. I mean to say that we're at war with each other. It's a _civil _war. From the forums, two sides have emerged in as combatants in this conflict. The first side is based in the public forums. They want to fight Shusaku for the center, and their leader is a shrouded figure named Sai. Some older members have called them Sai'ites as a pejorative label, but most of them playfully refer to themselves as the 'Center Party' or the 'Centralists'. They argue that fighting for the center is the way to go because Shusaku wants the center. Furthermore, they draw some (almost religious) inspiration from Sai, who suggested the infamous 11-9 move on turn 11.

The other side consists of almost all the tagged users on NetGo and a good portion of the public subforum. They support the tradition fuseki of fighting for the corners and edges early on. Koji seems to be the de facto leader of the 'Traditionalists'.

Each side commands a respectable percentage of the votes during the polls. For example, in the previous vote for move 21, the most popular centralist option garnered 40.4% of the votes while the most popular traditionalist option garnered 39.2%, a difference of only 1.2%. In the vote before that, the margin was even narrower at 1.1%.

Are these two sides reconcilable? Koji thinks so, but only if Sai shows up again. He's issued a challenge to Sai (click here for the topic) in hopes of cutting off the head of the Centralists once and for all, but at the same time, putting his own sovereignty on the chopping block. The only question is: will Sai show up?

So, there you have it folks. It seems like until one leader concedes, conflict will continue to wreck NetGo and any hope of civil discussion.

**Pendragon [8-16-02, 9:21:59 AM]: **First!

**Phaedrus [8-16-02, 9:22:33 AM]: **Second.

**Carrie [8-16-02, 9:23:11 AM]: **Nice post as always, Matt.

**[Thread continues]**

…

…

Hikaru clicked on the link. It redirected him to the tagged, which also now had its own subsubforums but with much less activity that their public counterparts.

…

…

**Thread title: A challenge to Sai.**

**Koji [PRO-9] [8-13-02, 5:23:59 AM]: **We're at a critical juncture in the game, and NetGo is obviously not working together. Two camps have been competing to win the poll ever since Sai appeared. This kind of conflict threatens to destroy any chance of cooperation or solidarity. Against a player like Shusaku, we cannot to go down this path any further.

In the past, I have voiced my concern regarding Sai's identity. How we all know that he's the Sai who beat the Meijin? We already know from his past games that Sai plays in a very old-fashioned but effective style. A player of such a high caliber would never go for the center so early.

And, as everyone knows, there's only one way to gauge a player's true strength. That is to play him.

Thus, I'm issuing my own challenge to him. Three hours for each side. 6.5 komi. Me, white; you, black. If this is the real Sai, then he should be able to beat me, since I consider my skill on level with the Meijin's. You can send the challenge any time. If I'm not online, then leave me a private message.

**Lu [PRO-4] [8-13-02, 5:27:41 AM]: **Interesting, but this sounds more like a duel of fates than a simple match to deduce identity. And even if that's not your motive, the public users will certainly see it that way.

**Izuka [PRO-4] [8-13-02, 5:31:32 AM]:** Koji: You should post this in the public subforum.

**Koji [PRO-9] [8-13-02, 5:35:59 AM]: **Lu: Yes, that thought had occurred to me when I was typing up the post. However, I am confident that Sai will either not show up or will not be able to win against me (I am 99% sure that this is not the real Sai).

In fact, I'll make things interesting. If he wins, then I will stop posting altogether. But if I win, then he must reveal his identity to all of us. There's no way to really enforce this wager, but I put in my word as an honest man and stake my reputation on it.

How about it, Sai?

**[Thread continues]**

…

…

Hikaru stared at the screen for an idle moment and then navigated to Koji's page. He was online. Without thinking, Hikaru logged out of his own username and typed Sai's alias and password into the login fields. His index finger hovered above the "Return" key. An involuntary shudder rippled through him.

His rational mind screamed at him to stop. He couldn't even beat Akira, a 3-dan, let alone a 9-dan title holder. No way. Between him and Koji lay a grand disparity of ability. It was like standing at a piedmont and craning up to view a mountain so high that you fall over backward trying to cram the entire thing into your vision. Too great of a difference in skill. Without Sai to guide him, he didn't stand a chance.

Yet, he wanted to play him. He didn't care about Sai's invincibility or his legend on NetGo. Something implored him, compelled him. His hand seemed to have gained its own consciousness, and the urge to depress the "Return" key became as irresistible as the urge to breathe. It reminded him of his game against the Meijin after he'd beaten Akira and how Sai had possessed his hand and smacked the stone against the board with a sharp _clack_. That power frightened him then, but now he embraced it. He logged in.

A popup indicated that he'd received private messages. Fifty in total, but that was only because mailboxes on NetGo only allowed for a maximum of fifty messages. All of them had been sent by different users and on the same day that he logged in. He found his way to the NetGo arena and prepared a challenge for Koji. 19x19, 6.5 moku, three hours on both sides, playing as Black.

He closed his eyes and inhaled.

He could back out. Just like when he first logged onto Sai's name. The damage hadn't been done yet. The future was still malleable. To meet it would require only a single click.

A strange feeling of aloneness washed over him. The laptop wasn't there anymore. A dimensionless darkness had swallowed it whole. The hospital room boiled away into translucency and then into negative space. The August sunflood had vanished along with it. He was in his dream but he wasn't dreaming. He searched the back of his eyelids for Sai and found more of the same emptiness. Nothing lay here.

What does it mean to play a perfect game of Go? To wield the Hand of God? Sai told him that it's simply nirvana, the place where everything makes sense. To him, it was a _feeling_ you arrive at when your heart is ready for it. The Hand of God was not supposed to come about through precise calculation or computing power but rather through spontaneous insight. Like finishing a crossword puzzle or adding that perfect stroke of color to a painting. Art. Romance. Intuition. These elements all sit on the same cosmic shelf as the divine move.

Shusaku searched for the Hand of God in another way. Years of research and intelligent tinkering produced this horrible machine, whose only purpose was to obtain the divine move like a hog sniffing for truffles. Matrices. Heuristics. Algorithms. Millions of fragments of data accelerated through a digital funnel by gigahertzes of processing power to spit out two simple numbers on an xy-coordinate plane. How could this machine dare reduce such a beautiful and complex game into something so clinical?

This was not the way.

Hikaru – no, _Sai _– must lead the World to battle against Shusaku. Heaven had ordained him thus. But between him and NetGo's solidarity stood one man: Koji Mizutani. He materialized as a gargantuan dragon guarding the gate that led to victory. The black dream world filled with its stench of ancient sulfur. A swing of the monster's tail whipped up a blast of hot air that knocked Hikaru to the ground. It lifted its head skyward and roared, issuing a plume of fire from its maw. He stood up slowly and planted himself on the groundless murk. This is where he would make his stand.

He opened his eyes.

In just a few minutes, he'd already been assailed by over a hundred game invitations. Ignoring the deluge of popups, he typed in Koji's name in the "Name of player to challenge" text field. He poised his cursor over the "Send" button and cycled through one more breath of air before clicking it.

New invitations continued to flash across his screen in an incessant stream.

The Go arena now contained 105,523 people with only 4,482 in active games. Hikaru looked over to his bedside table at the bag of books that Akira had brought him. He hadn't read any. Too tired. Now, 108,119 people in the arena. They were pilgrimaging to witness Sai's apotheosis.

_Ding_.

His heart thumped. It was the sound that played when someone accepted your challenge. He'd heard it a thousand times before, but never this sharply. A Go board loaded onto the screen. This was it.

A thousand spectators joined the room within the first ten seconds and another thousand followed soon thereafter. Within a minute, ten thousand users had secured their tickets to the greatest show on Earth.

…

…

**Koji: **So you finally showed up.

**Sai: **…

**Koji: **Shall we allow kibitzing?

**Sai: **Let's not.

…

…

He never did get over his stage fright

…

…

**Sai: **Ready?

**Koji: **Hold on. Did you read my entire challenge post?

**Sai: **Yes.

**Koji: **And you agree to those terms? If you lose, you have to tell the world who you are.

**Sai: **And if I win, you have to leave NetGo forever.

**Koji: **That's what I said. But let me ask you something else before we start: are you really the same person who beat the Meijin?

**Sai: **…

**Koji: **The only person who has consistently beaten me is Kouyo Touya. If you've really beaten him, then I'm looking forward to a good game. Otherwise, you're just wasting my time.

**Sai: **…

**Koji: **Do you see all these spectators? Over 30,000 and rising. Picture a major stadium packed to full capacity. That's how many people there are in this room. Can you really handle this pressure, Sai?

**Sai: **Can you?

**Koji: **You know how it is. If the tournament is important, televised matches will draw a couple million viewers at a time. In contrast, hundreds of millions of viewers regularly tune in for pro football matches. Over half a billion for the most recent World Cup final. Go was a dying sport before the Shusaku challenge, but now we can give all these amateurs a match to remember. Are you ready?

**Sai: **Let's begin.

…

…

The world darkened again. He shut out all distraction. Now, the sole things that existed in this universe were him, Koji, and the Go board between them.

The purpose of this game wasn't simply to affirm his identity, it was to argue for Sai's method. He needed to show the World why the center lay on the path to perfection.

2:59:59

2:59:58

2:59:57

Cursor over target, the tengen. All threads of possibility converged here. He pulled the trigger to the shot unheard 'round the world.

First move: 10-10.


	17. Chapter 17

Touya Akira rested a finger on his chin and examined the Go board in front of him. He referred to the book in his hand and confirmed that all the stones were set in the right places. Sitting back into the seat, he scanned over the position and proposed several possible moves to play next. Which one would save that patch of stones in the top left corner? Such answers seldom struck him with absolute certainty. It was more a hazy process of elimination.

Weed out the blatantly weak moves and you're left with many options. Plunge further into your analysis, weed out the subtly weak moves and you're left with only a handful of viable choices. Take those choices and pore over each one carefully. Find a tactical flaw in that path? Discard it and move on. Eventually, two or three possibilities remain, all seemingly equal in strength. At this point, you must consider the position and the superstructure of the stones. Do you want to play thick or thin? Is one of those moves more influential than the other? Pick that one.

That was how Akira arrived at his moves 90% of the time. The other 10% were forced moves. So, rarely did he venture a stone with complete confidence. Maybe another path led to more favorable results. There's just simply no way to know until after the fact.

Akira drew a black stone from the bowl and laid it in the center of the patch. He turned the page for the answer. Correct move.

The Go salon was half full today, less than usual. Friday at noon usually saw at least fifty or sixty patrons. Maybe some important match was on TV right now. Who knew?

He ran through a few more problems and got five out of six right. The one he got wrong apparently instigated a "decent but inferior line of play". With his daily quota of Go problems completed, he swept the stones off the table, separated them by color, returned the bowls to Ms. Ichikawa.

After wishing her a good day, Akira took the bus back home. Dark clouds rolled in from the horizon and threatened rain. Insects buzzed low over a passing lake and the swallows flew low to catch them. By the time he reached his front door, he could detect a damp, earthy smell in the air. A summer storm in utero.

He went to his room and crashed on the bed. For a while, he just stared upward like a camper watching a meteor shower. Images from his visit to the hospital relayed through his head. Hikaru's expression of feigned ignorance. The almost imperceptible quaver in his voice. Those eyes. He was cornered yet somehow he wriggled free.

Floaters bounced around the ceiling. They translated across his field of view in perfect lockstep with his vision. No matter how hard he tried to track them, they always escaped.

Akira rose from bed and slumped into his computer chair. A half day of solving puzzles and reviewing games had already left him mentally exhausted, so some simple internet surfing was a nice break from the action.

Thunder rumbled in the distance.

NetGo was sluggish today, more sluggish than usual. A record number of users were, but that didn't surprise him. This happened all the time. He checked the forum drop box and sorted out a few minor issues, arbitrated on several contestations, addressed some complaints. He closed out of the moderator's dashboard and entered the public message board.

The first drops of rain pocked the porch in soft _pit-pats_.

His eyes widened.

Lightning forked across the steamy skyline. Its flash reached Hikaru's eyes several microseconds before Akira's. They were ten miles apart in physical distance.

In psychic distance, Hikaru was light-years away. He existed in his own universe, his own dream world. Koji was seated across from him. A ghostly shadow swaddled his body and obscured his face, but the darkness wasn't perfect, and Hikaru could see the outlines. He wore a curious expression upon his curious features. His eyes stared into his and they were curious too.

"I'll confess," he said. "I'm not really sure whether you're the real Sai or not." He played a stone.

Hikaru reached into his own bowl, played a stone of his own, said nothing.

Koji continued. "I've studied your games. I don't know if you're really him, but you certainly share his aura." He laid another stone on the board. "You haven't made a mistake so far, but how long will you last against me?"

Hikaru settled a stone into place.

Koji paused to study it. "That move you just made seemed a bit passive. Not like the Sai who bested the Meijin. Maybe I'm reading into it too much, or maybe you've changed your playing style against me. Either way," he said, clacking a stone onto the board, "I'm not going to give you an inch."

Indeed, eleven moves into the game and Koji had already begun to bear his fangs. Having played on the tengen for his first move, Hikaru was fighting an uphill battle from the start. He had to make up a 6.5 moku deficit against his 9-dan opponent. It wouldn't be easy. But the game was still open. Maybe he would blunder. Not likely, but there was a chance.

The opening cruised right along. All by the book. Nothing out of the ordinary. Standard modern fuseki. Sure, Hikaru played a bit defensively on his previous turn, but it was still a highly popular alternative to the main line. He claimed more territory with his next move, and Koji reciprocated. They were throwing threats at each other, but no one had committed to an attack just yet. Each of their armies were brandishing weapons and hooting battle cries across the no-man's land. With every passing turn, the ranks of both sides swelled with new recruits. It would only be a matter of time before the benefit of attacking would surpass the benefit of claiming uncontested territory.

"The forums create all these rumors about you," said Koji. "They say you're a retired pro, that you're the entire Go club of a university, that you're a child, that you're Shusaku. Some people have even claimed that you're Honinbou Shusaku."

_Clack_.

"But lunatics aside, we all know you're made of flesh and sinew."

_Clack._

"So what does it feel like to be deified? To be transfigured into the God of Go? Our audience awaits your reply."

_Clack_.

"Concentrating on the game, huh? Then let's make things a bit more exciting."

_CLACK._

Koji launched an assault on the top right corner. An ambitious foray. This battle was to decide who would claim the first major gob of territory at the expense of the other. If he made a single inaccuracy, Hikaru would lose out on 6 or 7 points, a veritable death sentence against an opponent like Koji.

Fortunately, his attack was a maneuver Hikaru was used to dealing with. This restored some of his confidence. After a moment of contemplation, he decided to respond with a daring line of play bordering on brinkmanship.

...

In Atlanta, two hundred of the city's official Go club members were watching the action unfold on a projector screen at one of Georgia Tech's lecture halls. The atmosphere underwent an abrupt shift as the twenty-fifth move appeared on the blown up Go board. A wave of murmurs bounced through the room. Eden Voss, a fifty year old woman who joined the club for her daughter, raised her hand in the air. The club president at the podium called on her to speak.

"I'm still new to the game," she said. "But what was so special about that move?"

The president responded immediately, as if ready to be asked such a question. "It's the first move of the game from Sai that's deviated from the main line joseki. Before that, all of them were just stock book moves. Very standard stuff. But now things are going to get interesting."

The woman nodded and sat back down. Not a single other person had averted his or her gaze from the screen during that exchange.

...

In Munich, Eric Conradt, a German Go pro, was watching the game unfold on his living room computer. The greenish glow of the screen filled the room with alien light. A hot mug of coffee steamed on the tableside.

A knock from behind him.

Eric turned around and spied her wife, eyes droopy, hair frizzled. She was not a Go enthusiast like he was.

"It's almost four in the morning." She yawned. "Is that Sai person you told me all about playing or something?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact," he said. "Wanna watch with me?"

She rubbed her eyes. The question had such an obvious answer that she didn't even bother replying. "Well, I was just on my way to the bathroom. Try not to wake me up when you get back to bed."

"Sure, honey." Eric took a sip of coffee and scratched his beard.

He paid forty euros to watch the top two German pros fight for a title last week. No way he was going to miss a free broadcast of two of the greatest players in the world duking it out.

...

In Beijing, Shi Yu and her cousin, Shi Le, were listening to the moves via radio. They followed the game on their own Go board. Shi Le tacked a black stone on to the place where Sai had just played his thirty-first move. Shi Le inspected the stone like an archaeologist inspecting a fossil, circling around the stone at different angles. Shi Yu took off the reading glasses she wore only when she wasn't reading. "Verdict?"

Shi Le bobbed her head from side to side as if to shake off any mindbugs. "Good move. Nothing out of the ordinary, really, but I still think Sai could've played more aggressively."

"Yeah? And where would _you _have played?"

"Here," she said, pointing to a spot on the board.

Shi Yu examined her move and then said, "That's a bit too aggressive, I think. Maybe here." She pointed to another spot.

"No, no!" said Shi Le. "That's too defensive. Yeah, it's safer, but you're giving up a ton of territory for it."

"Not if you play tightly. Then you don't give up any territory and you have a nice position to boot."

"That's too risky, though."

"Sai can do it."

Shi Le conceded the point and said nothing more.

...

In Rio de Janeiro, an old, dusty television broadcasted the game to two old, dusty men sitting in two old, dusty rocking chairs. Roberto Silva, the senior by three years, pulled on a salty cigarette and then tapped the ashes to the bare ground. Leo Seiblitz stood and turned to him, said, "Up for some beer?" His loose white shirt flapped and flagged with a puff of wind.

Roberto nodded yes. "Always up for beer."

"Want to have some fun with it?" asked Leo.

Roberto presented an intrigued look. "Yeah?"

"A little drinking game. Every time a white stone is captured, you have to down a whole can. Every time a black stone is captured, _I _down a whole can. How's that?"

Roberto laughed a hearty laugh. "I can't wait 'til Koji gets that entire patch of stones in the corner," he said. "Then you'll be the first person to die from an online Go game."

Leo returned the laugh. "I don't think so, amigo. Sai's not that careless."

"It'll be interesting either way." He sucked in another lungful of smoke and puffed it out in a ring, a trick he'd perfected with fifty years of practice.

...

In Vancouver, instead of finalizing his lesson plan for tomorrow, Lee Vuernick was watching the game on his new IBM ThinkPad. The thirty-seventh move appeared on the board, and Eric flipped the book in his hand titled _Go Strategy _to learn about the corresponding attacking pattern. His granddaughter waltzed into the room carrying a spoon.

"Gran-ba, gran-ba." She still had trouble pronouncing her p's.

"God just played a move," he said. He turned the page without looking up.

"Gowd?"

"God. Sai. The God of Go."

"Oh," she said. "Mommy say dinner's ready so blease come eat."

Lee turned another page. "I'll be there in a minute, hon'."

"Okay," she said, and skipped out the door.

After some searching, he finally found the right section. In the dining room, he could hear her granddaughter's high-pitched voice say to her mother, "Gran-ba's not coming to eat tonight."

...

In Seoul, Lee Ki-duk was arguing with a fellow classmate, Wil Kim.

"No way, man," said Lee. "This isn't Sai. I know it. I just know it."

"Yeah, okay. Since when did you 'just knowing it' get to be the deciding factor in things like this?"

"Since always."

"So did you 'just know' you were going to wet your pants in front of the entire school?"

"Dude, that was five years ago."

"Time doesn't forget. In fact, that experience is like wine. It only gets better with time."

Lee jabbed him on the shoulder and laughed. "You asshole."

"Fact is, Sai's going to trounce Koji. Just you watch."

Lee propped his legs up onto the coffee table. "Wanna make it interesting?"

Wil slowly formed a smile. "You really think Koji's going to win against the God of Go?"

"That's why I'm betting on it. 5000 won. What say you?"

"That's a lot of cheeseburgers. Hell, let's do it." They shook hands and returned to the monitor just in time to see Sai make the forty-third move of the game.

...

In Tokyo, Akira Touya was running through rain.

...

Koji dipped his wrinkled hand into the bowl beside him, picked out a stone, and settled it on the board. Hikaru did the same. A million pairs of unseen eyes watched his every twitch.

Fifty moves in, and he was still only 9.5 or 10.5 moku down. He was surprised he'd played so evenly against Koji up until now considering he'd never faced someone with his playing style before. He paused at odd places and employed a weird strategy. His moves left him open for attack, but when Hikaru pounced, he sidestepped and claimed territory in the process. This wore down his morale. Every time he cornered him, Koji would feint and counter. Stick and move.

Sixty moves in and Hikaru hadn't made any progress. Rather, he was losing the war. He managed to save a patch of stones in the bottom edge of the board but at the cost of half its inner territory.

Koji attacked him again at the top left corner. Brutal initiative. He was relentless. Always on the offense. Hikaru defended with a good move. It tipped the skirmish in his favor. Koji merely smiled and attacked another hole on the opposite corner of the board. Hikaru spent another two moves securing his position back at the top left, which allowed Koji enough time to establish a beachhead to later assault his precious holdings on the bottom right. Although he was winning a few minor battles, Hikaru was bleeding territory.

Seventy moves in and he was 11.5 to 12.5 moku behind. He pressed on.

Koji paused. He then drew a stone and placed it just outside the reach of the Black stronghold in the corner. Another one of his moves. Hikaru sensed a weakness and prepared to drop a stone to exploit it.

Something stopped him. He stared at Koji's stone. It began to shake. A shimmering yellow thread twisted out from underneath it. Another followed. Then another. Then another. Then a hundred, then a thousand, then a million threads sprang out all at once like a forest germinating in fast forward. Slithering outward. They snaked from the board and branched across the oceans of negative space. Growing, growing, they filled the void with their combined radiance. The giant nexus pulsed in intensity. The radioactive heartbeat of the universe.

Hikaru gazed up. The celestial hemisphere was almost saturated with golden witchlight. He looked down and saw the same thing. It was like standing at the center of the sun. So bright, so beautiful. New threads thatched the spots of former of darkness. Swaths of solid color. They had weaved a sphere of fire around him.

He understood. Each thread represented a potential line of play. Some threads terminated early, some extended for parsecs.

Hikaru rose and searched around for … a certain thread. He wasn't sure which one it was, but when he found it he would know. The radiance boiled and simmered.

There!

A single thread shifted from yellow to purple. It dangled weightless in front of him. Hikaru trained his vision on it, determined not to lose it. All other threads started to vanish. Their collective brightness dimmed and dimmed and dimmed. Gold to bronze to black. His dark dream world was coming back. This did not distract him.

When everything else had disappeared, the purple thread remained, and Hikaru extended his hand to snatch it. His fingertips sliced through the dense blackness.

...

The rain came down hard. It battered against concrete and asphalt and roofing and grass and ponchos. Umbrellas shot up as did umbrella prices.

Akira ran. He waved his hand for a taxi, but it was hard to see through the curtains of water. Finally, one pulled up to the sidewalk.

The driver looked at him and grimaced. "Any chance you can dry yourself off, man?"

Akira jumped into the back seat, dripping water all over the faux leather, and pulled a wad of damp bills from his wallet.

"Here's 10,000 yen. Get me to the hospital uptown. The faster the better."

"Uhh, sure thing, man." He stepped on the gas and they were off.


	18. Chapter 18

Tassel.

In his hand. The purple tassel.

Dangling from the tassel was the fan and dangling from the fan was the universe. It flowed through him, suffused his being. Warm and pleasant. Like cozying up beside a campfire after a hike in the woods. Just let the heat permeate you.

He flipped the fan open and the bamboo sketches were there. The same graphite smears in the same places he remembered them being. Good. He welcomed any trace of familiarity in this unfamiliar place.

The fan brightened and began to glow. More warmth leached into his body. But now it wasn't pleasant anymore. Now it was _hot_. Like holding onto the tip of a blowtorch. He tried to loosen his grip, but his fingers wouldn't comply. They were quivering violently. Maybe the nerves in his hand had all been hijacked. He didn't dare look down to check. Instead, he looked up. And he saw…

…numbers.

Layers upon layers of numbers. All circling above him in a great galactic stew. What did they signify? Hikaru couldn't guess. He just watched them jiggle and joggle with the same fascination as an ancient astronomer observing a meteor shower. No sensation in his body now. He was like a pair of floating eyes.

"Hikaru…"

A million numbers in motion with a million hallucinations chasing after them. Migrating butterflies of data flaring up against the darkness of the background.

"Hikaru…"

A hodgepodge of lines and curves and corners. He stared at it until his retinas burned like marathon muscle.

"Hikaru!"

"Wha?"

He snapped around. A figure stood there, face obscured by afterimages of afterimages. "Hikaru," it said.

The voice belonged to someone he knew.

…

"What's going on?"

The Atlanta Go club was getting restless. What the members thought was a simple bathroom break had stretched into a ten minute cliffhanger. They fidgeted in their seats. Some stood up to stretch and walk around. Confusion turned to speculation, speculation turned to assertion. Whispers loudened to conversation. Eden asked her daughter what the big deal was.

"Black hasn't moved in a long time," she replied.

"So? It takes me a long time to move when I play you, and that was never a problem."

"That's a bit different, mum. This match has a time limit, and Sai at this rate, Sai isn't going to make it."

Eden nodded.

"The pressure finally got to him," said her neighbor.

"Sai's an old man. Maybe he had a heart attack or something," said her other neighbor.

"I'm sure he's just thinking," Eden said to them.

They both turned to her.

"Why do you say that?"

She shrugged. "Just a feeling, I guess."

…

Roberto looked at Leo, then at the screen, then back at Leo. Twenty minutes since Sai had played a move, and he was getting tired of waiting.

He took a swig of Leo's beer. High quality stuff, as expected from his friend. "Wanna start a game while we're waiting?"

Leo shrugged. "Sure. Why not?"

He set his bottle on the ground and went inside to retrieve the Go equipment.

…

"Can't you do anything to get us going!"

"Damnit, man. I already told you no. This jam is biblical. Take a look out the window."

It was true. They were thoroughly stuck. The taxi had moved about a hundred meters in the past five minutes. Drivers honked their horns. It was the only way to vent their frustrations as they had lost patience long ago.

The rain sounded like television static from inside the car. A centimeter of water had accumulated on the streets. No sign of letting up anytime soon.

"Yeah, I see it now," said the driver, pointing ahead. "Looks like an accident blocked off two lanes and bottlenecked the entire road. Quite a ways ahead. It might be another hour before we get to the hospital in this kind of traffic."

"How far are we from the hospital now?"

"Oh, two, two-and-a-half miles."

Akira weighed his options and then sighed. "Thanks for the ride." He opened the door and a blast of rain almost knocked him off balance. Water went up his nose and down his throat, causing him to gag.

"Damn, man! Here!" He pulled a plastic shopping bag from the glove compartment and tossed it to him.

He looked inside and found a poncho. "Thanks."

"That's the least I can do for 10,000 yen."

Akira donned the poncho and started to trek towards his destination.

…

Long, purple hair. Flowing, white robes. That goofy hat.

"Sai…."

Hikaru took two steps toward him. "You called for me?"

He nodded. "It's been a while."

"Last time I saw you in my dreams, you didn't speak," said Hikaru. "I-Is it really you?"

He nodded again.

Hikaru was dumbstruck. He'd wanted to talk to Sai again. He'd rehearsed conversations in his head, ran through them a thousand times, but now nothing came out. Fumbling for words, he blurted out the first thing that arrived at his mouth, "I-I'm sorry for using your account."

Sai smiled. "That's okay."

"And I'm s-sorry for challenging Koji. I'm going to lose in front of all these people."

"That's okay."

"But that means I'll have to tell everyone who you are. I'll have to tell Akira who you are."

"That's okay."

Hikaru looked at his mentor's eyes. It really _was _okay, they told him. He took a deep breath. Slowly, the list of questions he wanted to ask surfaced in his memory. One in particular. But he was afraid of the answer.

"Sai," he said, "why did you go?"

What if it was because of him? What if he disappeared because he was too bratty and unappreciative? Too childish? He never even said goodbye to him.

"Because my job was done."

"Your job?"

"I'm convinced of it," he said. "Remember when I won against the Akira's father over NetGo? Remember when you showed me that move he could have made to turn the game around? I remember. You explained to me how if he had played inside my group of stones instead of protecting his own group, then I would have been forced to block, causing me to concede enough territory to lose the entire match. I replayed the scenario in my head countless times. They all converged upon a single conclusion: you were right. If the Meijin had made that move, I would have lost. With that insight, you stepped one pace closer to the divine move.

"And that was my purpose, Hikaru. To guide you. To show you. I didn't even know that until my final moments with you."

"But then you left."

"I didn't want to leave, but with my purpose fulfilled, I really had no reason to stay. That's why I had to go."

Hikaru felt a heavy burden lift itself from his shoulders. His body was lighter. The air he breathed tasted purer.

"Now," said Sai, closing the distance between them, "I understand everything. Everything leads up to this game."

"Against Koji? But I'm going to lose! I'm already fifteen points behind, and there's no way I can come back against him. He's too strong. He's as strong as the Meijin. Every time I try to attack, he finds some way to dodge it and cut me off. I can't read the game as deeply as he does. He just—"

"Hikaru. I'm not talking about your game against Koji. I don't care if you lose against him. You can tell the entire world that Honinbou Shusaku was playing on NetGo. It doesn't matter. I'm talking about the game against the computer."

"Y-you mean the Shusaku challenge?"

Sai nodded. "Go is a beautiful game, the most beautiful game in existence. It speaks to the human spirit. I know this because it has been my obsession for a thousand years. Every time I hold a stone, I feel its presence flow through me. It's something bigger than myself. It's a reflection of love, hate, life, and death. Emotions only humans can appreciate. To reduce such a game to simple calculation and heuristics is wrong. You have to show that to the world."

"But I can't! You told me to play at 11-9, but that was just one time. You're not going to be here forever, and I can't do it myself. I don't know the right moves."

"Oh, but you do." Sai tapped Hikaru's chest. "It's in here." He tapped his forehead. "And in here."

"But, I—"

"You don't have to believe me. You just have to know. Know that I'll always be with you. Wherever you are."

"Sai…."

…

Eric Conradt bounced his legs up and down in anticipation. Forty minutes had passed since Sai's last move. The clock was ticking down, and the spectators, almost a million of them, were all screaming in a silence so loud it could make a mime go deaf.

…

Wil started his fiftieth lap around the room. Meanwhile, Lee drummed on the desk with his left hand, rested his head on the other.

"Almost an hour since Sai's last move," said Wil. "This is getting silly."

"I think Sai is trying to cope with the fact that he's lost."

"I won't dispute that he's losing, but I still think he's got a chance."

"That's assuming that this is the real Sai," said Lee. "The real Sai would never have gotten himself into this situation in the first place."

"Hmph."

"My mouth's already starting to water from those cheeseburgers I'm going to buy with your 5000 won."

Wil finished his fiftieth lap and started on the fifty-first. "It ain't over 'til the fat lady sings."

…

The water soaked through his poncho, his clothes, and his skin. He shivered between breaths. He was cold. But the hospital wasn't more than a mile away, and that thought alone warmed him up. He passed by the accident that held up his taxi for several miles back. A sedan had T-boned an SUV, sending it across two lanes of traffic before it stopped in the middle of the road, leaving only a small bottleneck for the cars behind them to squeeze through. The motorists channeling through the single open lane slowed down to rubberneck at the shattered cars and police officers in heavy raincoats.

Picking up the pace, Akira kicked away pailfuls of water with each step. He peeled off the poncho and disposed of it in a passing trash can. It was only slowing him down.

Just a few more minutes. Just a few more minutes and all his questions would be answered.

…

"Feel like taking a walk?" asked Sai.

"Why? Where are we going?"

He shrugged. "Wherever our walk takes us. It's nice to move your legs."

They drifted through the blackness in utter tranquility for a while. A faraway whistling of the wind was the only sound as they went.

Finally, Hikaru spoke up. "How long have you waited for me here?"

"Not sure. Time isn't the same here as it is in the real world. It flows when it wants to and stops when it's tired."

"Do you have any idea what those are?" he asked, pointing skyward at the whirlpool of numbers.

"Ah," said Sai, looking up, "it's beautiful, isn't it? A perfect constellation."

"Looks like a jumble of gibberish to me."

"That's because it exists on a higher plane of beauty than your conscious self is capable of comprehending."

"Uh…"

"Remember your first match against Akira? You played those moves but you didn't understand them. Not until you learned the strategy and tactics did you come to fully appreciate my moves. Same thing with those numbers."

"So, how do I understand them?"

"A part of you already does. A subconscious part. See how your fingers are twitching? All that information is coursing through your body and percolating out through your hand."

"It feels weird."

"It's supposed to. Just try to relax."

They walked on in silence. Hikaru tried to relax, but his hand continued to tremble. He veered his mind elsewhere. He thought about Akari and her worried expression when she saw him a week and a half ago. He thought about Akira confronting him and what else he could have said to defuse the situation. He thought about his final moment with Sai and how he never said goodbye to his friend. A cold wave of repentance washed over him.

He stopped in his tracks. He bit his lip to keep it from quivering. He didn't want Sai to see him cry. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Taking you for granted. Taking Go for granted. Taking everything for granted."

Sai sighed. "Hikaru, I watched you grow as a player and as a person. You passed your pro exams on your own, and now you're a 1-dan. And you're not done yet. Not by a long shot. You'll keep improving until you can improve no more. Then you'll be the greatest Go player in history. I can see it. It's far in the horizon, but I can see it. I'm just glad that I got to help you learn it all from the beginning. The time I spent with you justifies the millennium I've spent and the millennium I will spend in slumber."

"Does that mean…"

Sai nodded. "I'm sorry. I have to go again."

Hikaru spread his arms in protest. "Why!"

"God first wanted me to show you my game against the Meijin. With my purpose fulfilled, I left you to come here. God told me to wait for you, so I waited. I saw you running towards me a few times. I shouted your name, but I guess you didn't hear me. But this time, you really came. I got to talk to you. Now, that I've fulfilled my second purpose…"

"Second purpose?"

"To tell help you reach the divine move. Now, that I've fulfilled my second purpose…"

"Don't say it!"

"…I have to go. I'm sorry, Hikaru."

"You don't have to go!"

"It's not up to me to decide."

"I don't care!"

Tears broke from his eyes. Sai knelt down and wiped them away with the hem of his sleeve. "What would Akira say if he saw you crying?"

"I know, I know…."

Sai lifted his chin. "I was smiling, Hikaru. I was smiling then because I got the chance to meet you, and I'm smiling now because I got to see you once more."

"Will we meet again?"

"I told you: I'll always be with you, wherever you are."

Sai's hand began to glow. Slowly, his entire form started to shimmer. His robes paled into diaphanous gossamer, his skin faded into transparency. It was as if someone were slowly turning down the opacity on Sai's figure percent by percent. Glowing green flecks lifted from his body like snow falling in the wrong direction and then disappeared into the murk. He was smiling.

"Goodbye, Hikaru."

"Goodbye, Sai."

Soon, the green embers vanished, and Hikaru was alone.

…

Akira ran through hospital's automatic double doors and finally out of the worst downpour Tokyo had seen in five years. Wasting no time to dry off, he stamped into the elevator and pressed the button for the fifth floor. The other riders shot disgusted looks at him as they backed away from the puddle forming by his feet. He didn't care. His senses filtered out any input that didn't help him achieve his single goal of getting to his rival's room.

The elevator arrived at his floor, and Akira sprang out to the chagrin of the janitor who had just mopped the floors a few minutes ago. The nurses gasped as he flew past them, flinging drops of water onto their clothes. He could see the number above the door frame. Room 511. That was it. He twisted the handle and flung open the door.

"Shindou!"

He jolted up from a hunched position. His eyes were glossy, cheeks wet. "A-Akira?"

"Shindou... Were you crying?"

He wiped his face with the blanket. "What are you doing here?"

Akira marched up to him and pulled the laptop from his lap, disconnecting the modem in the process.

"Hey!"

He studied the screen and then glanced at him. "This is…."

"W-wait. Let me explain."

"Okay," said Akira. "Explain."

…

"C'mon, Sai," muttered Lee Vuernick. "It's been an hour since your last move."

His wife ambled into the room and tapped him on the shoulder. "So, you missed dinner."

Lee swiveled around. "Ah, look, I'm really sorry, but—"

"But you just had to watch this Sai play on NetGo. Yeah, I know. Anything new?"

"Well, he hasn't played a move in an hour, and I'm rea—"

A sound from the computer cut him off. Lee snapped back around to face the screen. A new popup read: "Sai disconnected. Koji wins by default."

"What!"

His wife sighed, rolled her eyes, and headed back out the door.

Lee pulled at his hair. "Sai! How could you just leave after keeping all of us on the edge of our seats for an hour? What a disappointment from the God of Go! Wait a sec. What the hell is that?"

Below the game board, a long string of numbers filled the chat window.

…

Shi Yu's radio emitted a staticky crackle. "Looks like right before Sai forfeited the match, he typed out a sequence of numbers. Folks, I'm not sure what to make of this. They don't look familiar to me at all. Several people have already posted the number on the public subforum, so go check it out if you're interested in it."

"Damnit, we don't have a computer. That's why we're listening to you on the radio, idiot," said Shi Le.

"He can't hear you, dummy," said Shi Yu.

"NetGo's going haywire," said the radio host, "A dozen new threads every second right now. I can't keep up. Lots of them are discussing Koji's victory, but most of them are speculating on what the numbers may mean. Okay, lots of my listeners are e-mailing me, requesting me to read the list of numbers. Fine, fine. Here it goes: 17, 4, 4, 16, 4, 4, …"

Shi Yu perked up. "Hey! 17-4, 4-16, 4-4. Aren't those the moves we've played so far in the Shusaku challenge?"

"I'm pretty sure you're right," said Shi Le. "I'll put them on the board."

Shi Le swept the Koji-Sai game from the tabletop and started to reconstruct the Shusaku-World game as the announcer went through the sequence. "Yep, there's no doubt."

"Can you keep up?"

"No problem. He's a slower reader, and I'm a fast player."

He continued to read the numbers, paused to warn his audience that it may take a while to get through the whole list, and then resumed reading. Shi Le placed new stones on the board corresponding to the new coordinates. "Okay, so that's the twentieth move, that's the twenty-first, twenty-second, twenty-third…"

"Wait a minute," said Shi Yu. "Wasn't that our most recent move that he just announced?"

"You're right. And he's not stopping. These look like…"

They turned to each other, red-hot realization dawning them both, and exclaimed in unison, "…future moves!"


	19. Chapter 19

He told him everything.

He told him about the blood-stained Go board, about Sai, about the truth behind their first encounter, about NetGo, about the game against his father, and about his mentor's disappearance.

He studied his listener's face for any microexpressions of anger or relief or disapproval or shock or triumph. None. Akira just listened quietly like a diligent student at a lecture, never interrupting for fear of knocking him off his rhythm.

When he finished, Akira paused for a moment to take everything in, and said, "You swear this is all true?"

"Every word."

Akira sighed. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

An obvious question, but Hikaru had no answer. Why _didn't _he tell him earlier? Perhaps at the time, he feared others would regard him as crazy or worse, juvenile. This boy's got an imaginary friend. How cute.

But he could prove it. He could play evenly against the Meijin if he (i.e. Sai) wanted to. A twelve year old boy defeating the reigning champion of Go. How else could anyone explain that without an explanation appealing to the supernatural? Akira would have believed him from the beginning, if not sincerely then at least as a defense mechanism. He was arrogant, and he couldn't, _wouldn't_ accept Hikaru as the superior player. The fire in his eyes told him that much. By keeping Sai's existence a secret for so long, he'd unknowingly tortured him and warped their rivalry into a one-sided obsession. This was Hikaru's confession. His plea for exculpation.

"I should have told you," he said. "I should have told you from the start."

"I was right all along, wasn't I?" said Akira, half to himself. "It's no wonder it took me so long to figure out you were really two souls, Shindou. Sai taught you well. I see his style in yours."

"Are you going to tell anyone?"

He shook his head. "Why would I? You turned pro on your own."

"But all those—"

"Those people at the Go salon? They don't need to know," he said.

"And NetGo? What about them, now that I lost against Koji? What do I tell them?"

Akira thought for a moment. "Honinbou Shusaku. That's the truth, right?"

"You think they'd believe that?"

"Half of them already do."

A wide, 24-carat smiled formed on Akira's face. "I really played against Honinbou Shusaku, didn't I? Didn't I?"

Hikaru nodded yes.

"I can't believe it," he said, still smirking. "I played the God of Go."

" 'He plays well.' That's what he told me."

Akira took him by the shoulders. "Thank you, Hikaru."

For the first time since their initial meeting, he felt like he had a friend in Akira.

…

…

**Thread title: Keeping my end of the bargain.**

**Sai ****[8-16-02, 4:30:19 PM]: **Honinbou Shusaku.

**Doki93 [****8-16-02, 4:30:25 PM]: **OMG Sai posted!

**Mantra [****8-16-02, 4:30:25 PM]: **First!

**RuyLopez [****8-16-02, 4:30:25 PM]: **first post

**Catalan1 [****8-16-02, 4:30:26 PM]: **it's him!

**OVEnnis [****8-16-02, 4:30:26 PM]: **first

**Randy84 [****8-16-02, 4:30:27 PM]: **epic sai thread

**[Thread continues]**

…

…

**Thread title: Sai = Honinbou Shusaku**

**FAAdams ****[****8-16-02, 4:40:44 PM]: **The truth is out, boys. Sai is the saint of Go himself. Click here to see the thread.

**Dragon2431 ****[****8-16-02, 4:41:21 PM]:** well i dun think he is. i mean how can he b honinbou shusaku if honinbou shusaku died so long ago?

**AlexEA ****[****8-16-02, 4:41:35 PM]: **I don't doubt that he is. He certainly plays like him. They probably are the same person. Don't ask me how that's possible though.

**Koji [PRO-9] ****[****8-16-02, 4:42:15 PM]: **I'm nonplussed. I thought Sai would reveal his real name, but apparently we miscommunicated. Or he's dodging the question. Judging from his skill, I had suspected that Sai was either Seiji Ogata from Japan or Wang Ni Tian from China. In fact, he turned out to be a very skilled conman who prefers anonymity to honor. I'm willing to forgive and forget Sai if NetGo is. Emphasis on the 'forget' part. That is, just ignore this Sai, this _troll_. I've had enough of him. He thinks we're all stupid. We're better than that.

**TJ239 ****[****8-16-02, 4:43:09 PM]: **Koji: Why do you think he's a troll? I, for one, do believe that he is the reincarnation of Honinbou Shusaku. And I'm being serious. If his list of moves proves to be correct, it wouldn't be that big of a stretch for him to be the reincarnation of the greatest player ever.

**SMei ****[****8-16-02, 4:43:15 PM]: **Koji: obv u have a problm w/Sai. y? u won the game vs him.

**TomWaitsRules ****[****8-16-02, 4:43:37 PM]: **Koji: Lol. NetGo is not going to be able to ignore Sai. He's here to stay buddy. If anything, you should be the one leaving.

**Hockeydude87 ****[****8-16-02, 4:43:51 PM]: **Koji, I don't know what kind of beef you have against Sai, but you're just being unreasonable. Sounds like you have a chip on your shoulder from _something_. Sai's hasn't steered us wrong yet.

**Koji [PRO-9] ****[****8-16-02, 4:44:28 PM]: **Don't get me wrong. I don't dislike Sai. It's just that he hasn't kept up his end of the bargain. Instead of revealing himself, he's just given us an obviously fake answer.

**JamesBLee ****[****8-16-02, 4:44:59 PM]: **Koji: How is his answer obvious fake?

**Ringo22 ****[****8-16-02, 4:45:22 PM]: **Koji: Like you said, we're not stupid. It's clear that you _do _dislike Sai. That's the first thing. Second thing: Like TJ239, I also think Sai is telling the truth. Even before the challenge, people have commented that Sai plays like a Honinbou Shusaku who's learned modern fuseki.

**[Thread continues]**

…

…

**Thread title: ALERT: Wave of newcomers inbound!**

**Brigance [8-16-02, 4:51:43 PM]: **Hello. I'm a Go hobbyist from New York City, USA, and you could imagine my surprised when I saw that there was a story on primetime TV about Go, a game that virtually no one in my country cares about. I understand that a story aired a few weeks ago. I missed that one. Stupid me. Anyway, the news story reported on the game between Koji and Sai and the string of numbers that Sai typed out right before the left.

The purpose of this topic is to just warn you guys that you've got another wave of users coming to participate in a historic event. I truly believe that Sai's predicted moves will come true, and so does the million new users behind me.

**Hume [8-16-02, 4:52:10 PM]: **Yep. Three million users and rising. What a time to be a Go player.

**DarkKnight75 [8-16-02, 4:52:19 PM]: **I'm excited. The world hasn't paid this much attention to Go since ever!

**[Thread continues]**

…

…

**Thread title: Sai's prophecy. Do we deviate?**

**Jikan [I] [8-16-02, 6:21:55 PM]: **I think it's pretty clear to everyone by now that the sequence of numbers that Sai typed out right before he disconnected represents the moves for this game. I'm not going to post them here. If you want to see it for yourself, there are a thousand other threads on the front page that show them. Click here for one of them.

The insane thing is that this list predicts future moves made by _both _sides. In total, there are 213 coordinates, representing 191 future moves. Currently, Shusaku is calculating out move 22 and will make its move at midnight. Sai thinks it will play at 4-15. I think we're all on the edge of our seats to see if he's right.

Although Shusaku is a machine that will play the same moves regardless of whether or not they've been predicted (because the scientists can't modify the program at this point), the World is different. Sai has not given us the list of moves we're going to play, he's given us a list of moves that we _would have _played had we never have seen those moves. In other words, we have the power to deviate from his prophecy. Whether we should is another matter entirely. What do you all think?

**Ender [8-16-02, 6:22:25 PM]: **no we do not. period.

**BRussell [8-16-02, 6:22:32 PM]: **NO. Honinbou Shusaku martyred himself to give us this list. We should abide by it.

**Imhotep [8-16-02, 6:22:58 PM]: **Interesting question indeed. I lean toward 'yes' purely out of morbid curiosity.

**RedHawk86 [8-16-02, 6:23:17 PM]: **We haven't proven anything yet. Let's wait for Shusaku's move. If it's the one Sai called, then I'll believe him.

**EVoss [8-16-02, 6:23:24 PM]: **Has anyone analyzed Sai's predicted game yet?

**DragonFlame44 [8-16-02, 6:23:41 PM]: **We should follow his moves. It's scripture after all.

**Biggoron [8-16-02, 6:23:59 PM]: **EVoss: Yes. There are a ton of threads that have done just that.

**Kathmandu [8-16-02, 6:24:10 PM]: **EVoss: Yup. Both sides play extremely well with zero mistakes found so far, but it's a very very weird kind of game.

**EVoss [8-16-02, 6:24:35 PM]: **Kathmandu: What do you mean 'weird'?

**Oppa [8-16-02, 6:24:41 PM]: **Sai is wrong. Shusaku will not play at 4-15.

**Kathmandu [8-16-02, 6:25:50 PM]: **EVoss: The only way I can describe the game is '24th century Go'. The moves are just so futuristic and deep that no way two pros in the modern era could really find them. However, we can at least recognize that they're futuristic and deep because lots of high dan pros have analyzed the moves and found that none of them concede any territory or leave any weaknesses. Even at the top levels of Go, you're bound to make at least a few small errors. Not in this game. There are no errors. Play from both sides are, for a lack of a better word, perfect.

**EVoss [8-16-02, 6:25:35 PM]: **Kathmandu: Thanks for the explanation. Any examples?

**Kathmandu [8-16-02, 6:26:02 PM]: **Evoss: Sure. For example, on move 87, Black (us) starts a fight in the center, and White (Shusaku) responds with a move that both solidifies his position and strikes back for territory. However, Black counters with a crazy move that initially looks like a blunder but turns out to be essential for Black's offense two dozen moves later. Every move is like this from both sides, but some have argued that in Sai's predicted game, White is just slightly inferior to Black, which is why Black wins at the end.

**[Thread continues]**

…

…

As the hours conspired toward midnight of the 22nd day, NetGo worked itself into a frenzy. Over two million users online all at once, pushing the servers to the brink of surrender. Posts flooded every forum and subforum and subsubforum at a rate not seen since Sai's first appearance. When midnight finally hit, Shusaku announced its move.

…

…

**Thread title: EXTRA! EXTRA! SHUSAKU FULFILLS THE PROPHECY!**

**Katniss [8-17-02, 12:01:03 AM]: **Hes done it boys. Shusaku played at 4-15. What say you disbelievers now huh? So now that Shusakus played where Sai predicted what do we do?

**Peeta [8-17-02, 12:01:26 AM]: **What else can we do? Play according to Sai's list.

**StrawberryAlarmClock [8-17-02, 12:01:37 AM]: **I can't help but not vote for Sai's move. It's just a sort of devil's temptation to find out what would happen.

**TVogler [8-17-02, 12:01:59 AM]: **Sai was right, and his moves look flawless. Let's go for it.

**Ayden [8-17-02, 12:02:09 AM]: **Oh my god i cant beleev it! Sai was rite!

**Romeo9123 [8-17-02, 12:02:13 AM]: **We have to play at 4-13. Right where Sai predicted! This is a call to arms!

**Lori1 [8-17-02, 12:02:25 AM]: **We can't vote for Sai! If we do, then we're admitting ourselves as slaves to him!

**Kassidy92 [8-17-02, 12:02:36 AM]: **StrawberryAlarmClock: loud and clear good buddy

…

…

**Thread title: MOVE 23**

**ThreadBot ****[8-17-02, 12:00:00 AM]:** This is the official thread for the 23rd move of this game, and our 12th move overall. From the time of this post, we will have 24 hours to discuss our next potential move. Our time will end on Monday, August 18, 2002 at midnight.

Please keep this topic on track and civil. Thank you.

**Ira [I] [8-17-02, 12:01:53 AM]: **Looks like Shusaku played according to Sai's prediction.

**Aoi [A] ****[8-17-02, 12:02:12 AM]: **I don't think these threads will be very useful anymore now that Sai's given us a list of moves to follow. And as far as I can tell, his moves are fine. So, let's go for his suggestion at 4-13.

**NineDan**** [PRO-9] ****[8-17-02, 12:02:44 AM]: **4-13 is a good reply and one I would have reached by myself without Sai's list. Let's play there.

**Koji [PRO-9] ****[8-17-02, 12:03:44 AM]:**Look, I know most of you think that 4-13 is a good move, but I would like to propose 5-13 as an alternative. While 4-13 is greedy and unsupported, 5-13 can defend itself in case White really tries to capture it.

**Mencius [A] ****[8-17-02, 12:04:49 AM]: **Koji: What? I've seen you play 4-13 over 5-13 just about every time during your pro matches. You love the more aggressive alternatives (which 4-13 is), so why are you shrinking away from the engagement this time?

**LeeLA ****[8-17-02, 12:05:58 AM]:** Koji: I think you just dont like Sai. Its obvious from the other thread from yesterday when Sai revealed his identity. Your going to vote for another move just because its Sais move right? I dont know why you would do this. He quit during the match but you still winning for most of it. So why you want to lead us to defeet?

**Kita [I] [8-17-02, 12:06:00 AM]: **Well I think we should at least consider Koji's move. =/

**BWilson [PRO-6] [8-17-02, 12:06:33 AM]: **Koji: Look, Koji. The pro board supported you when you wanted to play for the corner instead of the center. That's because we all came to the conclusion that playing in the corner was safer. In other words, we aligned to your opinion not because we like you, but because we agreed on the same move. Now, you want us to play an obviously inferior alternative to Sai's recommendation? No way. 4-13 is probably the best move in this case, and you're not going to convince me otherwise.

**MLove [A] [8-17-02, 12:06:42 AM]: **Koji: You might fool some amateurs by saying that 5-13 is better, but you're not fooling the pro board. We all know that 4-13 is the superior move in every way. We can easily defend that point. If we play 5-13, we lose out on 2-3 moku.

**BakaGaijin [PRO-2] ****[8-17-02, 12:07:20 AM]: **Mencius: Something's up with Koji. It's like he wants us to lose.

**[Thread continues]**

…

…

On the main public subforum, a thousand new threads spawned to protest NetGo succumbing to Sai's prophecy and ten thousand new threads arose to support it. Some topics burned out like supernovae, accumulating hundreds of replies before abruptly dropping off the front page, but most of them garnered few to no replies. With so many new topics cloying to so many users who would rather talk than listen, it was to be expected. By 11:59:59 PM on the 23rd day, Sai's 4-13 commanded 91.8% of the votes. The other camp never stood a chance.

…

…

A few days and Hikaru's condition still wasn't improving. On Tuesday night of the next week, he felt as frail as ever. Shige was in the room with him, lights dimmed, watching the Go channel on TV. The men in the box were talking about the Asia Cup. A new guest commentator, a big shot pro from Korea, gesticulated and brandished at the Go board in front of him.

"As you can see here," he said, "Koji missed this critical move at 7-10 and paid for it with four or five points of territory."

Kazuya Itsuki, the host, squinted over at where his guest was pointing, said, "Did you realize it was a mistake when Mizutani played it?"

He shook his head. "It was a very subtle error. I could count on two hands the number of people in the world who could spot it and then respond like the Meijin did."

"And do you believe that this mistake gave Meijin the game?"

"It certainly sealed Koji's fate, but something was wrong with during the game."

Kazuya shot him a perplexed look. "What do you mean?"

"He was pale and weak throughout the match. He trembled a bit during the first minutes. Then he started to make his trademark psychological moves toward the end when he realized he was losing. He played lots of them, but Touya dodged all the traps. The Meijin is an exceptional player."

"So, now the series is at 2-1 in favor of Mizutani. A player needs five wins to take the title. Who do you think will win?"

The guest pursed his lips. "Hard to tell. Their skill levels are more or less equal. However, I think the Meijin has the gumption to pull it off. I'm rooting for him."

"I see," said Kazuya. "One more question: You said that Mizutani appeared pale and weak during yesterday's match. Do you know why?"

"Maybe he was sick? You ask that as if you know the answer."

"Not an answer, but an idea. I think it might've had something to do with the Shusaku challenge."

"Oh, I haven't been keeping up with that. What happened?"

"Well, he played a three hour match against Sai over NetGo a few days ago."

"Really!" exclaimed the guest. "Sai showed up just to play him?"

Kazuya nodded. "Mizutani had a good lead up until the end, when Sai just disconnected."

"Disconnected? Then Mizutani won by default, I assume."

"Correct. However, Sai typed out a list of numbers at the end and people think it's the list of future moves for the game."

"Now, that's something."

"You're telling me. For some reason, Mizutani wanted to deviate from the list, and he's taken a lot of flak for it. Perhaps that's the reason."

"Perhaps, but I think another factor is –"

The TV clicked off. Hikaru turned to Shige, who laid the remote on her bedside stand. "My eyes hurt. Sorry."

"S'fine," said Hikaru.

"How's Mr. Mono treating you?" asked Shige.

"Not well, but it's not too bad. How're you holding up?"

She shook her head. "I feel weaker every day. And my sides hurt most of the time. Doc told me the other day that if I don't get a new kidney soon, I won't make it to the end of next month."

"I-I'm sorry."

"Not your fault. It's no one's fault. Just bad genetics. Happened to be born with the wrong set of genes. No one's fault."

"You should go for your walk. You told me that always makes you feel better. Clears your head, right?"

She sank into her pillows and sighed. "I can't go on my walks anymore. They told me I might have to go on constant dialysis soon. It sucks."

"If there's anything I can do to help…. Hey, we could have a quick game of Go."

"Sorry, hon. It looks like we can never find a time when both of us are in the mood to play. I'm going to sleep. Goodnight."

"It's okay. Goodnight, Shige."


	20. Chapter 20

Saturday, and Hikaru was feeling better. The doctor said he'd be out of the hospital by the end of next week. But don't go around sharing straws or the like; the virus can stay in the saliva for up to a year and a half.

Akari visited him on Wednesday and told him not to overexert himself. She also inquired if he'd be up for a visit to Bear Burger when he got out. She avoided using the word 'date.' He could tell because she peeped out a 'd' sound as she asked him. Of course, Hikaru agreed. The thought of a mouthful of beefy, cheesy, bacony, hundred-calorie goodness in his mouth sounded like heaven after having been on the hospital's meal plan for two weeks. School was also starting, and she hoped they would land in the same class.

"Let's leave that to lady luck," said Hikaru.

"Or fate," said Akari.

"Or fate," said Hikaru.

"Did you finish your all your summer homework?"

"Aww crap. I totally forgot about that."

"Well, when you're feeling better, we can finish it together."

"I don't know. There's the possibility that you might sabotage my assignment if I decide to work with you."

"That's a risk you'll have to take."

"Then I begrudgingly agree."

They continued to palaver until dinnertime. They talked about things that were unimportant, uninspiring, uninteresting, and Hikaru loved every minute of it. He enjoyed her voice.

Akira visited him the day after when Shige was taking her afternoon siesta, updated him on the state of NetGo and the overwhelming victories for each of his predicted moves. When Akira asked him how he came up with that list of moves, he just closed his eyes and shook his head.

"Don't ask."

"But—"

"No reason. No logic. It happened, and I can't explain how. I wasn't even aware I was typing the numbers until I saw the posts about it later on."

"Then maybe it was your subconscious controlling your hand to write out the coordinates."

"You sound like Freud."

"This whole thing's hard to believe."

"Hey, you didn't make a fuss when I told you about Sai, and that's ten times weirder than me typing out a bunch of numbers."

Akira nodded thoughtfully. "By the way, I found something interesting. About your numbers."

"Do they predict the next coming of Christ?"

"Some of the NetGo users actually believe that. But, no. Yesterday, I was looking over Koji's previous game with my father and I noticed some strange patterns."

"Strange patterns," said Hikaru. "Like what?"

Akira unfolded a sheet of paper from his pocket. A sample Go game with numbered stones.

"This is the game from Monday. See this patch of stones in the top-left corner? On move 125, Koji makes a move here. An odd move by most standards, but not by Koji's. He makes those kinds of moves all the time."

"Yeah? So?"

"So my father played here, and Koji connected his stones here, and my father responded with this standard move, and then Koji played another one of his odd maneuvers. See that? Well, this sequence of moves reminded me of a certain string of moves you predicted in your list. I checked it, and I was right. Shusaku played in the same weird places."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure," said Akira. "My father's moves are standard, see, but Koji's moves are just … strange."

"Alright. Fine. Koji and Shusaku have similar playing styles. What's the punch line?"

"Hikaru, to have Shusaku play in the same spots that he did can't be just coincidence." He shifted closer to him. Hikaru could feel his breath brushing his face. "Haven't you ever had a weird feeling about Koji? That he's hiding something?"

"I'm not sure what you're talking about."

"When I saw him play against my father in the first game of the Asia Cup, I just had this kind of tingling, unsettling sensation in the pit of my stomach. Call it intuition, I don't know. Whatever it was, something felt off to me. It was the same feeling I got when I played against you for the first time. I sensed someone guiding you from within. I turned out to be right. Now, I'm getting the same feeling when I watch Koji play on TV."

"So, you think that … Shusaku is playing through Koji?"

"Maybe not 'playing through', but I do think Shusaku is helping Koji somehow."

"Even if that were true, how would you prove it?"

"Just watch the game on Monday. Pay attention to him. Tell me if you see anything out of place."

"Yes, sir."

Satisfied, Akira checked behind him at Shige's sleeping figure rising up and down with every breath that soughed through her teeth.

"I meant to ask you who that was," he said. "Your fellow resident?"

He nodded. "She likes to be called 'Shige.'"

"Weird. Is she also in here for mono?"

"Kidney problems."

"Now, that's not something you shake off."

"She told me she needs a transplant, but it's too expensive to get one."

"I see. How's she doing?"

"She's cheerful. And talkative. We chat a lot, I enjoy her company, she enjoys my company, so at least she's not lonely."

"That's good. Does she play Go?"

"Actually, she does. But we haven't played a game together yet."

"Oh? Why not."

Hikaru shrugged. "Whenever I want to play, she's not in the mood. Whenever she wants to play, I'm not in the mood. Maybe when the planets align and Earth's magnetic fields invert, we can finally get it going."

Shige continued to whistle while sleeping.

"You know who I saw the other day?" asked Akira.

"Who?"

"The captain of your middle school Go club."

"Kimihiro Tsutsui?"

"He saw me and came over to talk. I didn't remember him until he told me who he was. I recall him being shy when we first met at the Go club meeting between our schools, but now he talks with a steadiness in his voice."

"He was probably intimidated when he saw you the first time, Akira."

"I don't think I'm intimidating."

"But your reputation is, and that's what he visualized."

"You're probably right. Look, I have to be at a tutoring session in half an hour, so I'll be off. When you get out of the hospital, why don't you drop by the Go salon and we can grab something to eat. You know, as friends."

"As friends."

"Later, Shindou."

As friends, as friends, as friends. Hikaru rerolled that phrase a hundred times across his tongue before he finally realized that Akira saw him as a friend in return.

…

"This is a disaster. A consummate calamity. Goddamnit, Koji, what the hell is going on? I need someone to tell me why this is happening before I murder someone."

Koji cleared his throat and then engaged the phone receiver. "Sam, you need to do some deep breath exercises before you have a heart attack."

"Fuck that bodiless breathing Buddhist bullshit. It's way too late for that."

"Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. See? It's easy."

"Alright, alright, I need to calm down. Let's start with one item at a time. First, how the hell did Sai manage to predict all the moves so far?"

"This isn't the answer you want to hear, but here it goes: I don't know."

"You don't know. I don't know. No one knows except the goddamned tooth fairy."

"Do you believe in the supernatural, Sam?"

"No. No respectable scientist does."

"Then let's think rationally. How could Sai have gotten a list of moves for both Black and White? Start with Black. Right away, we see that it's a nonissue. NetGo controls Black's moves by vote, and Sai controls the votes. Whatever he types out is gospel, so it's sort of a self-fulfilling prophecy. Easy."

"Go on…."

"White is a bit more worrying. The only way Sai could've predicted its moves would be if he had a copy of the program and the hardware to run it. Once he has those, it's easy. All he would have to do would be to calculate the next move, input one of his own moves, compute the next move, rinse and repeat. It would take time, though. I think that's why he wrangled with me over control of the votes. He wanted the moves to be more predictable so he would have more time to run all those calculations."

"I see."

"One more question. During Shusaku's think time, is his best move after four hours of thinking any different from his best move after twelve or twenty-four hours of thinking?"

"On rare occasions. Maybe one in fifty."

"Ah, so there's the last piece of the puzzle. He probably ran Shusaku on his computer for only a few hours and accepted that move in a rush. I think his list might contain an error later on because of the discrepancies that arise due to additional think time."

"Hmmm…."

"Know anyone who might've made a copy of the program?"

"Just you and me, pal."

"Of course, there's always the other option: maybe he did find the divine move after all."

"Which one do you believe?"

"The one I find more comforting."

"So, the rational explanation?"

"No," said Koji. "Something you don't know about me. I've been searching for the Hand of God all my life, not knowing if a mere human could actually attain it. I signed up with you so I could move closer toward it. Your program looked interesting, and I thought it might have had a chance. But if it turns out that Sai found it by himself, then that changes everything. Maybe I don't need Shusaku after all."

"Are you saying you're thinking of jumping ship?"

"The thought had occurred to me."

"Then go ahead. I'll expose you as the cheater you are and have been in the hundreds of rated matches you've played. They'll strip you of your title, your winnings, and your Mazda. Your piece-of-shit Mazda, Koji. Your white trilobite on wheels that you adore oh so much. They'll throw it in a trash compactor along with your livelihood."

"It'll be mutually assured destruction, my friend. The penalties for academic fraud and match rigging aren't so light either. You're the scientist. Think about it rationally. You could expose us both just to spite me, or we could continue to work together. It'll be – what do you call it – a symbiotic relationship?"

"And what if Shusaku decides he doesn't need you?"

"Then they'll drag you to court and give you thirty years in the slammer. You'll make lots of new friends there, I'm sure."

Sam chuckled.

"And I," said Koji, "will be out of sight before the storm arrives. You forget that I've got many connections in many places."

"And you underestimate me, Mizutani. You forget that I've got connections as well."

"Oh, I didn't forget. You'll get caught in spite of them. But even if you're capable of evading capture, you would prefer not to go through the trouble of being exposed in the first place, am I right?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"Well, I feel the same way, so let's not launch our nukes at each other just yet. If we can't cooperate as friends, we can still cooperate as confederates. I want to win the Asia Cup, you want to win the Shusaku challenge. We can still help each other out."

"You can't help me at this point."

"Eh?"

"Modifying Shusaku's program is too risky, and you're not going to be able to convince NetGo to deviate from Sai's list. His moves are winning with over 90% of the votes each time."

"You have too little faith in me, Sam."

"You're saying you have a plan?"

"I am."

"Well, out with it. What is it?"

"Can't say. It would ruin it."

"You were always a cryptic asshole, Koji."

"I am. Thank you. Are you still willing to give it a shot?"

Sam hesitated. "Between you and me, trust is a depreciating asset."

"Now who's being a cryptic asshole?"

"Fine. We'll do it your way. I want to see the votes shifted by next week."

"Whoa, there, cowboy. I can't make promises."

"You really piss me off. Do you know that?"

"Look, it'll take time. That's all I can offer you."

Silence on the other end. "Don't tell me you're going to try to brute force Sai's password."

"Something to that end."

Sam laughed. "Oh, you're a riot, Koji. Sai's probably fortified and refortified his account like Constantinople. If it's anything longer than ten characters, it'll take you months, maybe years to crack"

"Don't you worry about that. Just make sure Shusaku's available for my next game with the Meijin."

"Right. You lost the previous game against him, didn't you? How the hell did that happen?"

"Had an off day."

He scoffed. "I'm sure," said Sam. "I'll give you Shusaku for one more game. After that, he'll be sleeping until you manage to shift the votes."

"Fine. Whatever."

"Koji, don't forget that you are and always have been a cheater and a pissant. Without me, you'd still be trying to claw your way up through regional tournaments. Now, you think just because you've won a few titles that you're God's gift to Go. Well, cold reality is about to set in, and you better be sure to bundle up, because I see it lasting for a_ looooooong_ time." He hung up.

Koji snickered, said to himself, "The prick always has to get the last word in every conversation."

He kicked back into his armchair and rubbed his temples, flipping a stone between his fingers to calm his nerves. It didn't help. His head demanded something stronger. He cracked open a bottle of bourbon and took a slug of its contents. Fire leached through his stomach and into his extremities, incinerating the stress that had accumulated there. His father once told him to get drunk before making any major decisions. He downed the rest of the bourbon, chased it with a cup of water, and took a nap.

When he woke up, his head ached something awful. It was barely past midnight; he'd slept for six hours. Koji logged onto his computer and pulled up several documents containing damning evidence against Samuel Peoples, professor of computer science at MIT. More accounts of academic fraud that he could keep track of, data fabrication, rigging bets, rigging games, embezzlement of government research grants, and of course, footage of him and his secretary having a nice little get-together in the conference room after hours. He reviewed all of this, flexed his fingers, and then began to type a letter about just how honest his friend had been, addressed to the department head, the university president, several independent organizations for proper academic conduct, a few government agencies, all the major newspapers in the East coast of the United States, and a special letter (with a few special details) addressed to his wife. He compressed the evidence and missives into single .zip files and then rigged the packages so that he could remotely send them out all at once through his cell phone.

The nukes were ready. No doubt Sam was also arming himself.

Koji sighed, belted down half a bottle of warm scotch, and went back to sleep.


	21. Chapter 21

Koji Mizutani cracked his knuckles and raked a hand through his hair, immaculately moussed and combed. He was dressed in his finest Giorgio Armani suit that he had washed, pressed, and starched every few days before an important match without exception. It glistened in the studio light and was worth enough to feed a third world family for a year.

The cameras tracked his figure as he strolled through the double doors and to the Go board that dominated the arena. A panel of three judges was seated a few feet from the action, and an audience a few feet more from the panel. The Meijin was already present. He stood up, shook his hand, and sat down with his opponent simultaneously as per his conceited notion of decorum. The audience offered a light round of applause. Koji worked to suppress a sneer.

The center judge cleared his throat into the mike and spoke. "This will be the fourth game of the Asia Cup. Currently, the score is 2-1 in favor of Mr. Mizutani. As usual, both sides are allotted three hours, and white receives 6.5 komi at the end of the game. For this game, Mr. Touya will be playing as Black, and Mr. Mizutani will be playing as White. Good luck to both contestants."

Koji clenched and reclenched his fists. A light shock assured him that he was indeed connected to Shusaku via radio transmission. He was ready.

"You're looking better this week," said the Meijin. The raspy timbre of his voice jagged on Koji's ears.

"Thanks," he said, utterly unthankful. "I'm hoping to give you a good game today."

"I expect no less from a player of your caliber, Mizutani."

"The same of you, Touya."

These pleasantries had always annoyed Koji, and he made only a token effort to dissemble his disgust. On camera, however, he appeared slick and sharp. Tastefully dressed, clean shaven, well groomed. The grainy image projecting into Hikaru and Shige's hospital room did well to hide the subtle stress lines on his forehead.

They watched the two combatants begin jostling for territory over the open board. The live commentators talked about the flawless opening techniques from both players.

Shige turned to Hikaru. "This is the Asia Cup, right?"

"Yeah."

"Ah, I meant to watch the games, but I could never find the right channel."

"Well, it's … on the Go channel."

"That certainly makes sense."

The commentators switched to talking about the Meijin's past games and playing styles. It wasn't easy work filling up the dead space between opening moves. Most of the action happened midgame.

"That's Koji Mizutani," said Hikaru, pointing to the man with greasy hair. "Didn't you have some sort of grudge against him?"

"Grudge? Heavens, no. I don't have a grudge against anyone. I just said I didn't like the way he carries himself."

"Right. His vibrations."

"Did you ever look up the Beach Boys?"

"Errrrrr… no."

"Well, you should. They've made some fine music. Pet Sounds is the greatest album of all time."

"Okay, I'll look into," said Hikaru. "But right now, I want to watch the game."

"And you're looking to see if something's off about him."

"Yeah, I—. Wait. How'd you know that?"

Shige laughed a grandmotherly laugh. "I was awake, dummy."

"What? Why didn't you tell us?"

"It was more interesting just to listen."

"But if you—"

Shige snapped a finger to her lips. "Shhhhhh. The game's getting good."

The Meijin had just attacked the bottom left corner with a daring line of play. His opponent responded with a questionable maneuver. A smirk crossed the Meijin's face as he cut off Koji's two patches of stones from each other. A swing of four or five points. Enough to catapult him into the lead.

A tic in Koji's neck.

Shige pointed to the TV. "Did you see that?" she asked excitedly.

"What? What happened?"

"That twitch in his neck."

"I didn't see it."

"I'm going on eighty years old, Hikaru, and you're saying you didn't see something so obvious?"

"No, I really didn't see it."

"I've watched dozens of his games, and each time he loses out on territory, his neck twitches without fail. Every time."

"I never noticed that," said Hikaru. "Maybe it's just a habit of his."

"Yes, but then he clenches his right hand. Watch. Just watch," said Shige. "There! Did you see it?"

"Huh! You're right."

"And then his entire body jolts up a little bit. See? There it is again."

"Wow. I would've missed that if you hadn't told me to look for it."

"That happens every time he's in a bind." Shige looked satisfied with herself.

The commentators' voices rose in excitement. Koji had executed one of his trademark moves, and now the Meijin was rubbing his forehead in meditation. If he failed to find the correct response, his lead would be negated.

"What does it mean?" asked Hikaru.

"Like you pointed out earlier," she said, "it might just be a nervous habit of his. Or it could be something else."

"Such as?"

The Meijin answered with a solid blockade option that fenced off a sizable chunk of land from Koji. The commentators decided that he the move was good but probably not the best. He lost one or two points in that brief exchange.

"You know, during World War II, some Japanese intelligence agents used to have tiny radios hooked up to spark generators implanted under their skin. When they slipped behind enemy lines and wanted to send information back to home base, they would use the sparks to spell out a message in Morse code. The electricity would be transduced to radio signals, which would only be heard on receivers tuned to the right frequency."

"How do you know this?"

"My husband. He was a spy working in China, and he showed me this trinket. They implanted it under his skin, and whenever he clenched his fist, it would send out a radio signal. He gradually developed the same tic in his neck and the same abrupt jolt when the spark startled him."

"Do you think that trinket could also receive signals?" asked Hikaru.

"I'm not an electrical engineer, but from my limited knowledge of radio transceivers, I would say: why not?"

Koji and the Meijin began wrestling for territory in the upper right corner of the board. This time, the Meijin was on defense, skillfully warding off several sharp advances from White. One of the commentators complimented Koji on his incisive attacks while the other commentator offered equally warm praise for the Meijin's defensive ability.

Hikaru said, "And how would you go about detecting the signals sent from such a device?"

"That," said Shige, "you'll have to ask my husband."

"Ah, he's still…"

"Alive? Oh, yes. He's eighty-eight and still going strong. He doesn't even need a cane or dentures. Never took up smoking when everyone else did because he knew instinctively that it was unhealthy. Walks a mile every day, buys his own groceries, and still has time to visit me every other day."

"He visits you? Then how come I've never seen him?"

"Hikaru," she said, "you're sick with one of the most infectious conditions in existence. Do you really think the nurses would allow him to visit me in our room?"

"So _that's _what your walks were for. I feel stupid."

"Don't. I know you're a smart boy and so should you."

"Uh, I guess."

"Especially in front of Akari." She winked. Hikaru reddened.

"Right! Right! Enough of that! Next time your husband visits, could you please ask him how the radio thingy works?"

"Of course," she said. "I'm just teasing you, my boy."

The rest of the game saw watertight moves from both sides. At around move 88, Koji began to pale and perspire. On move 100, he requested that his glass be refilled. The attendant obliged. It didn't improve his pallor. On move 102, the tic in his neck throbbed to life. His left fist clenched, body twitched before he deployed a brilliant passive move in the center of the board. The commentators scratched their heads for a while before one of them ventured a compliment for the maneuver. Hikaru and Shige locked gazes in a silent telepathy of knowingness.

It happened again on move 168. Tic in the neck, clench of the fist, twitch of the body, trademark move. Hikaru could spot the signs easily now that he was hunting for them. The Meijin found the correct response and held on to his small but vital lead. By move 176, Koji launched an aggressive campaign to secure turf in the upper left quadrant. After a minute of intense deliberation, the Meijin realized that the only way to break even was to cede the area under fire in order to counterattack and nab an equal amount of Koji's land in return. By move 200, the commentators agreed that Koji had lost, and on move 202, he resigned. The series was now even at 2-2.

…

**Thread title: Saiism - The Religion of Sai**

**Dominic85 [8-19-02, 5:58:21 PM]: **Welcome, everyone to the temple of worship for the Religion of Sai, otherwise known as Saiism. I have created this topic based on the growing movement to recognize Sai as a prophet. So, behold! This shall be our church, where we will pay our digital respects to the man (woman?) who foresaw the future moves of the Shusaku challenge. Accurate predictions are rare in history, but none have ever been so _specific _in their details. Even the scientific community is baffled. There is only one explanation: Sai is a disciple of the Lord of Hosts. He is the shepherd, and we are his sheep.

His messages on NetGo have already been received, studied over, and preserved in both mind and matter. With them, many of the more dedicated Saiites have already begun to record his exploits in the new Sai Bible. If you would like to help, please send me a PM and we can get you started on writing a chapter. Be a part of this historic event! Your words will become sacred history for our posterity.

**BlueKnight1 [8-19-02, 5:58:52 PM]: **Finally! A place where we can worship without being persecuted.

**Theo422 [8-19-02, 5:59:10 PM]: **Haha. Is this some sort of joke?

**TheBigLebowski [8-19-02, 5:59:28 PM]: **I am totally on this boat. Sign me up for writing sacred history.

**NarutoFan86 [8-19-02, 5:59:33 PM]: **YES!

**Dominic85 [8-19-02, 5:59:44PM]: **Theo422: No joke, my friend. This is 100% legit.

**AlanRickman9 [8-19-02, 5:59:54 PM]: **Not sure if srs….

**CJohnson [8-19-02, 6:00:00 PM]: **This is legit, guys. If you can't see that, then I feel sorry for you.

**[Thread continues]**

…

…

…

Akira visited the next day. Shige exchanged greetings with him and talked about nothing in particular before they moved on to the main reason for the impromptu conference. Akira did indeed spot Koji's tic, clench, and twitch. He theorized that those actions were a signal to an accomplice in the audience, but he never imagined Koji would be carrying a concealed implant. After pondering the new intelligence, he asked the obvious question.

"How do we detect those signals? If he's able to receive them, then there has to be a way."

Hikaru turned to Shige, who cleared her throat and said, "I talked to my husband earlier today. He said back in the 40's, it would be impossible to use this kind of device to transmit messages unless you had your own private frequency and lots and lots of money. I asked him what's different now, and he just said all you need is a cell phone and someone on the other end."

"Is someone abetting him?" asking Akira.

"Could be," said Shige. "If there is, that person took great pains to set all of it up."

Akira leapt out of his seat. "Peoples!"

Hikaru flinched. Shige waved off Akira's epiphany. "Yes, yes, it could also be a group of people."

"No, I mean Peoples as in Samuel Peoples, the guy who built the Go engine. Hikaru, remember when I showed you how Koji's moves looked a lot like Shusaku's moves taken from your list?"

Realization painted over his eyes. "Yes! You're right. It makes sense." Hikaru cracked open the laptop and began typing. Akira looked over his shoulder.

Shige wore a confused mask over her face. "Huh? What's all this about what now?"

"Shige, Samuel Peoples is the guy who built Shusaku," said Akira. "And during the game last week, Koji played a sequence of moves that looked suspiciously like the computer's moves according to Hikaru's predictions."

"Predictions?"

"Long story. Gist of it is that someone seems to be feeding Shusaku's moves to Koji. And who better to do it than the creator of the machine?"

"Wait-wait-wait-wait-wait. What if it turns out that someone made a copy of the program and this Samuel Peoples has nothing to do with it?"

"Cui bono? Who profits? Who would benefit from stealing this program and using it to win the Asia Cup?"

"Koji Mizutani, for one," said Hikaru, eyes still pasted to the computer screen.

"Yes, that's a given. We already know he's guilty. Who else?"

"Someone related to Koji, then. A brother or a cousin. But what if he's acting alone?" asked Shige.

"That's certainly possible," said Akira. "Hikaru, could you search for when Dr. Peoples first presented Shusaku to the public?"

Hikaru did so, and thirty seconds later, he said, "The earliest reference I can find is from June of this year. A paper in a computer AI journal."

"Just two months. That's very recent. Before that, I imagine the program must've been kept pretty secret, and in the United States no less. Would Koji even have heard of it let alone risk breaking into an academic institution just to steal a program that may or may not play Go very well?"

Shige shook her head.

"He had help from the inside. That narrows it down to people who knew about the project before it was revealed."

"I read an article about it last week," said Hikaru, still immersed in his typing. "It said Shusaku had been tested on a few Western pros before the official unveiling."

"They might be accomplices, but that's also a distant assumption. Those pros would be in the same situation as Koji. Would they really risk their careers just to steal that program even if they knew how strong it was?"

Shige shook her head again.

"Everything points to Dr. Peoples as the other man. He's got the wherewithal, and he's got the motive."

"Which is?"

"If Shusaku wins the challenge, everyone will want his program. Scientists will want to study it, and players will want to buy it. Academic prestige and money. Two big impetuses."

Shige smiled. "You're a genuine C. Auguste Dupin."

"Eh, thanks," he said awkwardly. Akira was used to people complimenting his Go skills, but never on his detective skills.

"Hey, look at this." said Hikaru, pointing to the screen. "It's Koji's biography. Apparently, he took a sabbatical shortly after he turned pro. Stayed in the U.S. for almost a year."

"Does it say where in the U.S.?"

"Nuh-uh."

"I'll bet you anything he visited Boston at some point. Visited the campus where Peoples worked, and that's how they met. I'm sure of it."

"Okay," said Hikaru. "How do we track down the cell phone signal?"

"That's a wee problem," said Shige. "You're gonna have a tough time finding the receiver without a phone number and insider access to the provider's network."

"Uhh, do we have either of those?"

Akira shook his head. "We don't know the number. Short of stalking Koji to his house and hoping he utters the number in his sleep, we're not going to get it. And access to the network isn't going to be any easier to obtain."

"So, let me get this straight," said Hikaru. "We know he's guilty, we just can't prove it?"

"Well, we don't know for sure that he's guilty," said Akira. "Our strongest pieces of evidence are an – no offense – unverified testimony from Shige's husband, and a notable similarity between Koji's moves and Shusaku's, which we don't even know if it will end up making."

"Why don't we just report him to the Go federation and let them investigate?"

"Yes, yes, that's a sensible solution," said Shige.

Akira produced a sour expression. "They'll go through their standard operating procedure, I'm sure. I've seen it before. They pull the person under investigation aside and tell him he has to show up on this date for questioning and let him go until then. Innocent until proven guilty. In Koji's case, he'd be able to expunge all the evidence by getting rid of the implant. Then the committee would bring him in, throw him a few soft jabs, and then release him because they won't have a preponderance of evidence. Or any evidence, for that matter. You have to catch him red-handed."

Hikaru tilted back and stared at the ceiling in defeat. "Man, this sucks."

"Indeed," said Akira.

"Well," said Shige, "there is _one _more thing my husband suggested."

Both boys turned to her, waited for her to spill.

"A cell phone jammer. After the war, he worked high up in the government, and he got to see all kinds of weird gadgets and patents through his work. Near that old crank's retirement, he was sent schematics for a prototype radio signal jammer. Told me that such a toy would be perfect for scrambling a cell phone signal at close range. I debriefed him on our situation, and he said he'd be able to get one for me as long as it's used for a noble purpose."

"Noble?" said Akira. "I'd say this is noble. Helping to bring a chronic cheater to justice."

"Shige, I guess with that sort of thing, we'd have to be in the same room as Koji, right?"

She nodded.

"I can get us in," said Akira.

"I'm not surprised," said Hikaru.

"Then we'll do it. Next game. Monday. You'll be there, won't you Hikaru?"

"Wouldn't miss it."

"Would you like tickets as well, Shige?"

"I would love to go, but the circumstances have conspired against me." Shige smiled. "And by the way, tell your father that he has a fan in me. I always thought he was a hunk."

Akira suppressed a reaction and then excused himself. After he was gone, Hikaru laughed and exchanged high fives with the old jokester.


	22. Chapter 22

Koji drank more and more as Monday loomed close enough for him to feel its breath. He lost again. Even with Shusaku's help, the Meijin outplayed him. The day after the match, Koji continuously held a bottle of alcohol in one hand and a Go stone in the other. He replayed the match over and over again until he pinpointed his moments of weaknesses and found the correct refutations from the game literature. He read and reread the lines until the letters burned out of the page and the walls were closing in.

Two days later and he felt his body expanding beyond the shackles of reality and into orbit. Glittering starstuff and fluorescent color dappled what images his brain rendered for him. This was what they called an out-of-body experience. It happened, he'd read, when your wetware went wonky. That couldn't be a good sign.

Three days and he hadn't eaten for, uh, a long time. He must've slept, couldn't remember. His head throbbed mercilessly, veins pumped capsaicin. Or maybe he blacked out. The last 24 hours was a giant lacuna. Recalling that alcohol-induced dehydration precipitates hangovers, he poured a glass of water and drained it in one chug. It did neither to help nor intensify the pain in his skull, but it did slake the dryness in his throat. Now his stomach rumbled. Koji ripped open a bag of ramen noodles, ate it raw, and then lay down on the carpet while his stomach ached for more.

For an hour he was neither asleep nor awake but funambulating on the borderline between them. The more he dawdled in his own self-consuming thoughts, the more he was convinced that Samuel wanted him gone. That bastard. He rigged the machine so that it fed him the wrong coordinates and brought about his defeat. And he'd love to see him lose anyway. Right? He didn't care about him. He was a conniving weasel. He was conspiring to have him ruined. Yes, that was it. Once he lost the series, he would haul him out to the curb to be disposed of along with the Tuesday trash. Exhibit A, ladies and gentlemen, is what we now deem as the quintessential specimen of a Nimitz class asshole: Samuel Peoples.

But oh, would he be in for a surprise if he tried to pull anything funny in the next game. Koji had his cell phone ready to unleash the damning documents which would crucify that fool. He repeated it to himself and broke out in an unrestrained, machine gun burst of laughter that reached nothing but the breaking tides beneath his seaside penthouse.

The phone blared.

Koji covered his ears and yelled, "Stop it, you idiot!" After realizing it wouldn't stop ringing, he picked it up.

Sam's voice crept through the speaker. "Hello, Koji, buddy-buddy."

"Ah, it's you."

"Koji, I—. Uh, you've been drinking, haven't you? Because you're slurring every other word."

"Yeah. I know. I _know_. What do you want?"

"Just wanted to find out what you're going to do about NetGo. The votes haven't shifted one tick since our last conversation. Besides that, you also lost against the Meijin. With Shusaku's help. Again."

"I did?"

"I'm wondering if you're just trying to purposefully piss me off."

"I said I needed time. _Time. _Do you understand time? Like days, hours, y'know, like, weeks."

"Well, _time _is running out for both of us. Believe it or not, I'm more tired of you than you are of me. This is the ultimatum: I'll lend you Shusaku for the fifth game. If I don't see the votes shifted by the Sunday before the sixth game, then I'm cutting you off. You grok?"

"Haha, grok. That's a funny word."

"Good. I'm glad we understand each other."

A click signaled his hanging up. Koji looked at receiver dumbly for a moment before hurling it across the room and allowing himself another half-glass of bourbon.

…

Hikaru was discharged from the hospital on Friday to an all too grand and nonexistent fanfare. The doctor told him to refrain from spitting, as the germs could still spread even up to a year after the initial infection. Shige said her farewells and he promised to stay in touch with her. Her husband had told her to tell Hikaru that the cell phone jammer would come in the mail the next day, so keep an eye open for it. He thanked her and departed after a heartfelt embrace.

His mother picked him up and dropped him off back home. It was noon on a weekday, and she had to get back to work.

Hikaru stretched and surprised himself at how much he'd missed his room. Open note books and quires of loose leaf paper lay in a pile in the middle of the floor. He didn't miss that. School was to start in less than two weeks, and he still had homework to finish. He called Akari.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Akari."

"Hikaru! What's up? How are you feeling?"

"Feeling great. They just discharged me, so now I'm sitting home wondering how I should proceed with the rest of my homework."

"Oh, it's a lot easier if two minds work on it as opposed to just one."

"So I've heard."

"I'll be right over."

Thirty minutes later, Akari barged through the front door struggling with a large paper bag in her arms.

"I heard hospital food wasn't great," she said, huffing, "so I brought you some snacks as a welcome back present."

Hikaru ran over to help her set the bags on the kitchen counter and as they unpacked the sandwiches and burgers and sodas, they shared a brief and primal glance.

Akari unwrapped a turkey club and started chewing on it. "I got this at the deli next to my house, so it's still pretty fresh."

Hikaru burrowed into his own sandwich. The taste of something not prepackaged and microwaved amplified the flavor by a hundredfold. "Oh, god. Something this good. It can't be legal."

She giggled. "I had to fork over two briefcases full of cash to buy it, so you better savor it."

He wolfed down the rest and dug into the bag for another. His fingers landed on the receipt, and curious to find out just how much she'd spent on the comestibles, he pulled it out. Then the following sequence of events took place:

1) He noticed was that it wasn't a receipt.

2) "It" was actually two tickets to a movie.

3) Akari had pigmented a fire truck red.

4) She had reached – nearly leapt across the kitchen – for the tickets, snatching them out of his fingertips and holding it behind her like a cookie from the forbidden cookie jar.

"Uh, were those movie tickets?"

"No. I mean, yes. I mean … ugh." She sighed. "I really screwed this one up, didn't I?"

"What? No, no, you didn't screw anything up. Keep going."

She slowly composed what she wanted to say in her mind and then offered it in a low, careful tone. "I was going to ask you if you wanted to grab dinner and then watch a movie with me the last day before school starts. Sort of as a final summer activity before the start of the new academic year."

"Y-yeah. Sure. Sounds great."

She released a sigh of relief. "That's good. I thought you might … well, be busy on that day or something."

"No, never."

Color on her face returned to normal. She finished her sandwich and cracked open a can of diet soda. "So, I meant to ask you earlier: how was the hospital?"

"It was—"

"Ah, sorry for interrupting, but do you remember Betty?"

"Yeah, how could I forget?"

"Well, we bumped into each other a few more times. Talked a bunch. Turns out both of us lo-o-o-ove clothes shopping and reading manga. Did you know she has a pet ferret? I didn't believe her because those guys are really expensive and rare in Tokyo, so she invited me over to her house and there it was! His name's Sashimi. Cute, huh?"

"Cute," said Hikaru, not so much as an utterance of comprehension rather than acknowledgement.

"I played with him for, like, an hour just flicking his paws. She told me he really likes that. Oh, and Betty's going to stop working at Bear Burger in three weeks, so we'll get to see her again. She landed a supporting role in this soap opera about this Yakuza family. Can you believe it? She'd been taking acting classes all this time, auditioning for every role imaginable for the past two years, and now she's finally did it. Her dreams are finally coming true."

"Good for her. Seriously."

"Yup. She says if she does well, wins an award or two, she might even have a shot at going to America and finding a gig over there. That's always been her dream, you know."

"And how's her grandmother doing?"

"Oh, so you remembered," she said. "Unfortunately, Betty told me she's rapidly deteriorating. The disease is progressing faster than her family had expected, so she might have a few more months if she's lucky. That's all I know. It was really hard for her to talk about it, so I didn't press it. Of course, she said it was okay, even though I knew it really wasn't, and just kept going until I insisted that we change subjects. Betty's always like that. But she wore a weird look on her face when she explained all of that to me. I mean, on one hand, she's ecstatic that she's going to be on TV, but on the other hand, she's depressed that her grandmother's not going to make it much longer. And I was depressed, too. If only she'd landed the role a year or two earlier, she might've made enough money to pay for her transplant. But now…"

She took a sip of soda. Hikaru started on his own can. "I'm sorry I couldn't get to play Go with her," he said. "I'm just so stupid. I forgot my promise. I could've just buckled down and forced myself to play just one game, but I forgot."

"Huh? What are you talking about? You don't even know where her grandmother was staying."

"Right, right. That too."

"And you still have a chance to play with her. She's still kickin'."

"So, I've heard."

"And I'm sorry too," said Akari.

"For what?"

"Not visiting you. While you were on the mend, some friends and I stayed in Okinawa for a week and a half. I felt like crap the entire time. I didn't want to tell you on the phone, but I decided I had to come clean."

"Nothing to be sorry about. You called me a few times. That was enough."

"I still feel like crap."

"Maybe this'll help you feel better."

He leaned in and embraced her. She flinched at first, startled, but then reciprocated the gesture and squeezed him gently against her. Releasing each other, they shared the same congruous effects on their faces, which were both glowing like cherry stars.

"Feel better?" asked Hikaru.

"Yeah."

"Wanna start on homework?"

"Yeah."

They worked distractedly on the assignments for half an hour before they decided to play an easy game of Go. Afterward, they talked and talked and when Hikaru's mother returned home in the early evening with more food, they supped and then talked and talked some more.

…

**Thread title: The Gospel of Sai**

**Dominic85 [8-25-02, 7:18:19 AM]:** Sorry for making this thread so late, but I wanted to check out everyone's opinions before I went ahead, and it sounds like people are really demanding a real chronicle of Sai's exploits. So we can start here!

Many of you have pointed out the similarities between Sai and Jesus. I, myself, am both pleasantly surprised and a bit spooked out by this. Let's start with the basics:

1) Sai was sent down from heaven as the god child of Go.

2) He spread his teachings via his games, disseminating his strategies and methods to all who were willing to study him.

3) Many ridiculed him for his outdated strategies and branded him, ironically, as an antichrist.

4) He was defeated by Koji Mizutani, which is analogous to Jesus's betrayal by Judas and crucifixion.

5) Sai revealed his true identity as Honinbou Shusaku, which corresponds to his resurrection and apotheosis.

6) He left behind a list of moves for us to play, which is even an improvement on the Bible, as it has predicted with 100% accuracy, the moves that Shusaku has played so far.

And I would like to stress this last point. Alleged psychics always equivocate when it comes to predicting the future. They'll make very broad statements that are either always true or can be construed in enough ways to make it seem true. Not Sai. He's given us hard, solid evidence that he can presage the eventuality of the Shusaku challenge.

What we need now is an origin myth to paint Sai in the proper image and sufficient overanalysis of his messages to include in the official Gospel.

To work, my brothers!

**Rabid_Wolf48 [8-25-02, 7:18:55 AM]: **Awesome!

**GeorgeHarrison1 [8-25-02, 7:19:00 AM]: **It all fits.

**Raven0 [8-25-02, 7:19:31 AM]: **I still can't tell if this whole Saiism movement is serious or not.

**LedZ [8-25-02, 7:19:41 AM]: **Okay, some of your points don't work out. Sai revealing himself as Honinbou Shusaku to correspond to his resurrection? What? That doesn't make sense at all. And people ridiculing his strategies? That's simply not true. Most people admired Sai from the start; he had few, if any, detractors.

**AndyOK [8-25-02, 7:19:59 AM]: **As a devoted saiite i support this thread

**CarmenSanDiego4 [8-25-02, 7:20:33 AM]: **Pssssst, LedZ. I think you're taking this thing a bit too literally.

**DJoker [8-25-02, 7:20:44 AM]:** Gospel, eh? How about this: When we die, we ascend to heaven, where the ground is made of Kaya wood and everything is overseen by a giant Go stone (which replaces the sun).

**Rabid_Wolf48 [8-25-02, 7:21:26 AM]: **Djoker: Brilliant! I'll jot that down.

**[Thread continues]**

…

…

Shige's roommate had been gone for two days, and loneliness had fully replaced him. She really did enjoy their conversations together; it was nice to just chat without worrying about time limits or life insurance or other morbid subjects of discussion.

Her husband saw her on Friday, and as usual, they met downstairs in the lobby area and spent an hour together before departing. No more of that, however. The doctor noticed her limp and prescribed bed rest and constant dialysis until her condition improved (i.e. never). He also showed qualms about letting visitors, especially geriatrics, up into her room even with masks and gowns. The previous co-inhabitant had been afflicted with infectious mononucleosis, and he was afraid a colony of germs might still be lingering in an unsterilized nook or cranny. Shige protested, but the doctor remained adamant. Absolutely no more horseplay.

So, on Sunday night, instead of her usual trip downstairs, she lay beneath the sheets and waited for a call. When it came, it was her granddaughter on the other end.

"Betty," said Shige. "How's my Little Cookie doing?"

Even through the low-quality earpiece, her sniffling was obvious. "I don't know, grandmamma. I just got the news."

"News certainly travels fast. How did you find out?"

"Dad told me. Said they downgraded your condition, and – and I can't come see you for whatever reason. I'm sorry. I'm trying not to cry, but I can't help it."

"Oh, Betty. You big crybaby. I used to buy ice cream to stop you from weeping, and it did the trick as long as it was vanilla flavored. Chocolate just couldn't cut it. Very odd. Everyone in our family loves chocolate. At least vanilla worked well. Then it stopped working when you hit four years. I still haven't figured out why."

"I don't remember any of it."

"Yes, that was when mullets were still popular in America. I bought you that Mickey Mouse comic book around then. Probably seems like a long time ago for you. Feels like a minute to me. You don't believe it until it happens to you. Time really drags. Tokyo will always be Tokyo. Little Cookie will always be Little Cookie."

"I'm a grown-up now, grandmamma."

"Yes, yes, I know. But somehow, you never seem to get older."

Betty sniffled. "Did grandpapa tell you about the job I landed?"

"He did," said Shige. "I meant to bring it up earlier. Congratulations, Cookie. I always knew you'd make it."

"Thanks, grandmamma." She sighed. "I know I should be happy, but something won't let me. I want to see you."

"And you will. But right now, the doctor's telling the truth. My bones ache, and I need to go to sleep."

"So, when?"

"Maybe tomorrow."

"You'll be okay, right?"

"Maybe tomorrow."

"Really, grandmamma, you'll be okay, right?"

"Maybe tomorrow, maybe tomorrow. My bones really do ache. Goodnight, Cookie."

"Tomorrow for sure."

"Goodnight, Cookie."


	23. Chapter 23

Hikaru and Akira arrived two hours early as they had both discussed on the phone the day before. The venue was a lot bigger than either of them had gathered from the televised matches. Unmanned cameras aimed at the central Go table which sat atop an elevated platform. A projector splashed a blown-up Go board on a large screen beyond the table.

Hikaru brought the cell phone jammer, which he hid in his coat pocket. It was heavy and looked like a walkie-talkie with three antennas. A note taped to the front panel read:

"My husband tells me this thing has a maximum range of about ten meters. Good luck with your plan.

-Shige"

They hadn't told any officials about the plan on the assumption that cell phone jammers were illegal.

Akira proposed that the safest plan of attack would be to sit in the next room and watch Koji's reaction from afar. Hikaru argued that sitting anonymously at the back of the audience in the same room would work just as well if not better. They would be able to gauge his reaction firsthand. Akira agreed, and the rest of the spectators were rendered confused when they saw that the earliest arrivals had commandeered spots all the way in the far corner. Bodies gradually filled the remaining vacancies, and the cameras were switched on ten minutes before the appointed time. Several TV sets hanging from the rafters tuned to the Go channel, where a muted commentator mouthed out subtitles about the game. Akira's father was the first to arrive. He took a spot at the table and gazed serenely at the board until his opponent came on stage. The audience applauded as the two competitors stood and shook hands and exchanged a few words that no one could hear above the clapping.

When they were seated, the announcer cleared his throat into the mike. He informed the spectators of the usual rules. 6.5 komi. Mr. Touya would be playing White, Mr. Mizutani would be playing Black. Three hour time limit for both sides.

Hikaru turned to Akira, whispered, "So, when do we use this thing?"

"I'll let you know," he whispered back.

Akira's father opened with a safe line of play. Koji riposted with a loose and aggressive fuseki. The live commentator took no delay to note that this game featured the most exciting opening yet. The game proceeded quickly with early engagements from both sides.

"My father doesn't usually commit to offense this early," whispered Akira.

"Why do you think he's doing that?"

"Mixing it up. Trying to catch Koji off guard. But the positional considerations aren't going to matter nearly as much as the tactical ones. My father needs to pull off some flawless micromanaging to catch up."

"Catch up? They're about even, I think."

Akira shook his head. "If you're counting territory, then yes, it's anyone's game, but I feel Koji has the high ground right now. He could come from anywhere. Ah, look. He just played for the bottom left. He really does have a talent for sniffing out weak points."

"Did you see his neck tic?"

"Not yet. Keep watching."

Koji pressed the attack and ended up squeezing out a couple points after all the dust had settled. He renewed an attack on the opposite side of the field. This time, the Meijin mounted a beautiful defense and prevented any further loss of territory. It also allowed him the initiative. He struck the patch of stones on the left side of the board. A flurry of moves ensued and the action spilled over to the center. On turn 88, the Meijin played a suspect maneuver that threatened to cost him five or six moku if his opponent found the right response at 10-11. Hikaru held his breath as Koji drew a stone from the bowl. He squinted, rubbed his temples, and laid a stone at 10-12, permitting Hikaru to finally exhale.

The Meijin smirked and occupied 10-11 with his next move. Koji instantly realized his lost opportunity and clenched his teeth.

Hikaru leaned toward Akira. "Koji's lost out. That's a game changer."

"He's getting desperate. Look out for the tic."

"There," whispered Hikaru loud enough to turn a few heads. "Eh-heh, sorry."

Akira elbowed him in the ribs. "I saw it too. Now, wait for the fist clench. Okay, there it is. And then for the twitch. There it is again. You see it?"

Hikaru grunted yes.

"And then the final step."

Koji rotated a black Go stone between his fingers and then played an enigma at 12-15. The commentator on TV was at a loss. Eventually, he mouthed out words which the subtitles transcribed: "This must be one of Koji's trademark moves. I don't see any immediate gains either positionally or tactically that he could've gotten from it, but I have a feeling that it's a good move nonetheless."

"That's it," said Akira. "You set?"

Hikaru reached into his pocket and toggled on the jammer. It emitted a single beep soft enough for their neighbors to ignore. "On."

The Meijin stared at the board and grimaced at the development. A critical juncture in the match. His next move could solidify his lead or swing the game the other way. He sipped on his water and then cradled his elbows in his hands to think some more. After two minutes of deliberation, he replied with a simple reinforcing maneuver.

Akira shook his head. "A passive play, but I can't think of anything better."

"His neck," whispered Hikaru. "Did you see it? The tic."

"Yeah. Then his right hand. Clenched fist. There it is again."

"And the jolt?"

They waited but nothing happened. Koji sat stock-still for over a minute.

"No jolt," exclaimed Hikaru. Several people in the next few rows turned and shot dirty looks in his direction. A woman to his right pressed her finger to her lips and shh'd him. Even Akira's father glanced briefly toward his section of the audience. "Sorry," peeped Hikaru.

Koji didn't notice. He was lost in his own world. Sweat began to bud on his forehead.

Another minute passed.

"I think … I think it's working," said Hikaru, quieter this time.

Akira agreed with a cautious nod. "Look," he said, pointing to the stage.

Koji slapped a stone on the board, stood up, and left the room to the murmurs of the crowd. His clock ticked on in his absence. The commentator explained that although bathroom breaks during tournaments weren't unheard of (six hours is a long time, after all), they were taken only when absolutely necessary, which meant that Koji probably ate some bad food before the game today. Hold on for just a jiffy.

"You think he knows about the jammer?" asked Akira.

"One way to find out," replied Hikaru, rising from his seat.

Akira caught a fistful of his jacket. "The hell are you doing?"

"Investigating. You coming with?"

He grumbled and then followed Hikaru down the aisle and out the rear entrance. They took a roundabout passage and doubled back to the men's room, where a single security guard kept watch.

"Sorry, no one's allowed in there," he said. "Just wait a couple of minutes."

"Sir," said Akira, dressing his voice with his most formal flourish, "I know you're just doing your job, but could you please make an exception for my friend over here? He really needs to go. It won't take more than a minute."

"Again, I'm sorry, but – Hey, wait a minute. You're Akira Touya, right? The Meijin's son."

"Yes, that would be me."

"Du-u-ude, I've seen all your games and everything. Look, I'm a Go player myself, but I'm having some trouble getting set up in the right matches, see? I know I'm, like, really skilled, but they still won't let me play in the regional tournaments. So, I was wondering if a pro like you had any advice for me so I could possibly, you know, move up the ladder?"

"Sure, I'd love to give you a few tips, but could you let my friend here use the bathroom first?"

"Oh, yeah, no problem," he said, waving him in. Hikaru obliged.

The bathroom was empty and well-lit. The muffled conversation from outside filled the room with warped and unlocalized syllables. Hikaru tiptoed carefully over to the row of sinks and turned on the water. He lathered and rinsed his hands twice before the lion's roar of a toilet flush sounded behind him. Someone stepped out of the stall and coughed. The mirror showed Koji Mizutani wincing at his cell phone. He angrily mashed the keypad before stuffing it in his suit pocket and manning the sink next to him.

Koji inspected his reflection and readjusted his tie as Hikaru continued to dumbly wash his hands. The mounting silence between them stretched from awkward to unpleasant as each person tried to phase out the existence of the other.

Finally, Hikaru spoke. "Aren't you Koji Mizutani?"

"Who wants to know?" he replied without breaking gaze from the mirror.

"Uh, my name's Hikaru Shindou."

"Do you play Go?"

"Yeah. I'm a 1-dan."

"Then you know about the rules, right?"

"Huh?"

"You're not supposed to be speaking to me, small fry. They'll temporarily suspend your status as a pro if I report you."

"Isn't using a cell phone during a game a worse offense?"

"Touché." Koji quickly glanced at him before returning his attention to his reflection. "What do you want?"

"Me? I don't want anything."

"I'm not stupid, Mr. Shindou. I hear your accomplice out there keeping the guard busy. I saw both of you here before anyone else and yet you two still took seats in the nosebleed section. I saw you pointing at me during the game, and now you're here in the men's room taking a minute and a half to wash your hands." He plucked out a single maverick hair from his scalp. "No guy takes that long to wash his hands. So, do us both a favor and stop beating around the bush. The clock's running."

"Fine. I wanted to ask—"

"Hold on," he said. "I feel like I know you from somewhere. Have we ever met before? On NetGo, perhaps?"

Hikaru blinked. "No, I don't think we have."

Koji picked out another hair and sighed. "I guess not. Go on."

"I wanted to ask you … why do you have to cheat?"

He froze. After a pause: "What did you say?"

"I said why do you have to cheat?"

He broke into a jaded smile. "So, you know, huh? How did you find out?"

Hikaru pointed to his neck. "The tic." To his hand. "The clench." To his torso. "The jolt."

"I see," said Koji, continuing to groom himself. "Well, it doesn't much matter anyway. In 4 hours, I'll be out of this city. In 8 hours, out of this country."

"Because I know your secret?"

Akira's conversation with the guard loudened by ten decibels yet still remained unintelligible.

"Don't flatter yourself, boy. I really don't give a shit about what you know. No one would believe you anyway. The creator of Shusaku., on the other hand, is a problem."

"Samuel Peoples."

"Correct," said Koji, now picking at his teeth. "That poor, deluded fool. He thought he could sabotage my chances of winning by switching off Shusaku midgame. Anyway, he's screwed. In a few weeks, he'll be on the receiving end of the biggest investigation of academic fraud in the Western hemisphere. It's just too bad he'll retaliate. Or at least try to."

"I don't get it. I thought you two were working together."

Koji shrugged. "Artistic differences. He was interested in the fame and fortune, I was interested in the divine move. Once Sai wrecked his chances of winning the Shusaku challenge, he became bitter and looked for a victim to dump his failures on. Of course, I was the logical target. But Sai's the real culprit here."

"Sai, huh?"

"The master of the divine move. He found it, by God. I'd been searching for it my entire life, and he found it. He really did. You must have heard about it."

Hikaru nodded. "And you beat him, right?"

"Easily," said Koji. "It was extremely disappointing, actually. Everyone clamored about how Sai was some undefeatable demigod. Turned out this guy fell for even the most obvious traps I set for him. And then he rage quit when he realized he was getting wrecked. Absolute trash."

"Hey! I didn't rage quit! And just because you beat me doesn't mea—"

Hikaru slapped his mouth shut as Koji fired a startled look at him.

"What'd you just say?"

"Nothing. Nothing. Errr…I mean, nothing important."

"'I didn't rage quit." I caught that part," said Koji, closing the gap between them. "Could you kindly repeat the rest of what you said?"

Hikaru's back bumped into the wall. Any attempt at a coherent response came out as stutters from his jackhammer jaw. His legs stiffened. The bathroom shrank to the size of a matchbox.

"Now that I think about it, Sai did play at the level of a 1-dan. You said you were a 1-dan, didn't you? That's interesting."

Hikaru suddenly realized the man in front of him towered above him by a full head length. He was close enough that Hikaru could detect the tangy cologne clinging to his suit.

"I told you my secret, so, let's practice some quid pro quo. I'll ask you a question, and you give me an answer. First question: Do you know Sai?"

Hikaru babbled something that sounded like a foreign language. Koji sneered. "It's fine. I can work with whatever answer you give. Lie, and I'll know. Tell the truth, and I'll know. Refuse to answer, and I'll still know. So, it sounds like you know Sai. Second question: Who is he?"

Koji dug deep into his eyes and scryed into his soul. Hikaru squeezed his eyelids shut but the cold draft of his stare spilled through.

Koji recoiled. "I don't believe it. A child? _You_!" He clenched him by the shoulders and rocked him back and forth. "How! How did you do it?"

"Get off of me!" bellowed Hikaru.

"Tell me, you idiot kid! How?"

"Let go!"

"Answer the question, and I'll let you go."

"I don't know, okay? It just happened."

"_It just happened? _That's it?"

Hikaru gave him a heavy shove, sending him momentarily off balance, and started for the door. Koji quickly regained his footing, cocked back his hand, and swung. His palm connected flatly with Hikaru's cheek, turning it white then red. He toppled over, bumping his head on the tissue dispenser on the way down, and crashed against the floor.

At that moment, Akira kicked open the door, having been alerted by the strange sounds inside the bathroom. The initial scene afforded him a grim expression. He switched his attention between the two, saying nothing, preferring to first assess the situation in silence.

Koji no longer looked neat and trim. Perspiration rumpled his shirt and made it appear like crêpe paper. His previously immaculate hair was now wiry like steel wool. His skin had paled into a fish-belly white.

"What happened here?" asked Akira, dormant anger beneath his voice.

Koji wiped spittle from the corners of his mouth. "So, you're in on this too, young Touya? I should've known."

Akira glanced at Hikaru, who was rubbing his puffy cheek, and then back at his assailant. Animal rage boiled over inside of him.

"You hit him," said Akira matter-of-factly.

"Oh, sorry, did I offend you and your religion. Is this kid your god, too? Do you worship him like NetGo worships him? Fucking idiot."

With nimbleness he never thought he possessed, Akira launched himself fist first and drove all his momentum into Koji's gut.

"_Don't you fucking dare touch my friend!_"

Koji stumbled back two steps, clutching his stomach, but did not fall.

"You little shit!" He lunged for Akira and grabbed him by the collar. "You disrespectful little shit!" He readied his fist for an overhand but was distracted by a new voice.

"Mr. Touya, are you still in there? I thought I heard something." The security guard walked in just in time to witness Koji release his grip on the boy. "W-w-what the hell happened here?"

Koji swiftly shouldered his way past the guard and bolted out the door. Akira motioned to the guard to give chase. "Don't worry about us. We're fine. Go look for Koji and make sure he doesn't leave the building."

"Uhh, right. Okay. Leave it to me." He promptly swung around and went after the man.

Akira clamped onto Hikaru's hand and helped him up. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," he said, massaging his cheek. "Just a bit startled. Didn't expect something like that to go down."

"Hold on. Let me see." Akira pried away Hikaru's hand and inspected the site of impact from three different angles. "No blood. But you do have there a nice red handprint on your face."

He ran a paper towel square under cold water and then pressed it against Hikaru's cheek. "Hold it there. Yeah, like that. Good. You should feel better in no time."

"Akira," said Hikaru. "Thanks a lot."

A crowd had gathered hear the latest development on the runaway competitor from the Go official, who offered a few riskless comments about his whereabouts and the motive behind his uncharacteristic desertion. He was sure he had an emergency to tend to or something like that. No one could be sure. The listeners grew impatient and pelted the speaker with questions that grew increasingly unanswerable and imaginative. Perhaps Koji been kidnapped for a ransom. Or maybe it was part of his psychological scheme to throw away this game in order to unnerve the Meijin in the next one.

The two boys found seats on a bench distant enough for them to successfully ignore the spectacle. Hikaru was hunched over like a basketball player who missed the buzzer beater. He recapitulated everything that happened, and Akira listened as attentively as he did when he learned about Sai.

"I screwed it up," said Hikaru. "One slip of the tongue, and _whoosh_. Thermonuclear destruction."

"I'm surprised Koji actually slapped you."

"Well, when they catch him, they can throw assault on top of cheating to the charges."

"_If _they catch him."

"You think he'll get away?"

"We still can't prove that he cheated. Plus, the police aren't going to cordon off Tokyo just for someone hitting someone else."

Hikaru sighed. "That's unfair."

"I know, but there's nothing we can do," said Akira. "Are you hungry?"

"What?"

"Hungry. Are you hungry."

"Now that you mention it…."

"Then let's get something to eat. It's on me."

"No way," said Hikaru. "You saved my butt when shit hit the fan. I'm not letting you pay."

"When 'shit hit the fan?'" repeated Akira slowly.

"Yeah. You never heard that one before? When shit hits the fan, it means things've gotten way out of control."

"Oh, I didn't know that." said Akira, laughing heartily. "That's a funny expression."

Hikaru developed a confused look and then stared off pensively at the distance.

"Uh, are you okay?"

"You know," he said. "I'm trying to remember if I've ever heard you laugh like that before. I don't think I have."

"Only the privileged ones, my friend. C'mon."

Hikaru wasn't actually hungry. Akira wasn't hungry either. But both saw it as an excuse to walk downtown together and catch up on lost time as afternoon went and evening came upon the neon-lit city.


End file.
